


Winter Is Here

by CaptainTarthister



Series: Kingslayers [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Awkward Boners, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: Jaime and Brienne's relationship gets tested.





	1. Blood in the Air

Brienne could count the number of times in her life that she got so furious she not only saw red, she smelled and tasted blood. 

This night.

Was the first.

The crowd cheered. Their thunderous applause could have brought down the studio. Brienne had stared unsmilingly at Jaime’s laughing face, a growl emanating from her throat. Jaime’s guest spot was for the entire episode so she just about managed to stay in her seat and not demand an answer. He would wink at her and she stared back at him stoically. 

Towards the end of the show, Jaime delivered one hell of a performance. He was the total package, an awesome singer and a great performer. Usually, she would look forward to having a nightcap with him at a hotel, once again so proud of him. Maybe entice him to spend the night there then fuck the night away. Her spine and legs would end up as mush but she and Jaime still go at it. 

Since they became a couple and when he started doing his guest rounds, she would meet him back at the green room. A kiss was exchanged, sweet and tender. They left holding hands and continue to talk softly waiting for the limo outside. This time, she just met him at the door, nodded then preceded him. Either Jaime was just dense or he was too happy with the crowd’s response and his performance. She stood next to him outside of the studio, shoulders stiff and a murderous look in her eyes. Jaime gamely posed for photos and signed autographs for people that came up to him.

Her silence continued as they entered the car and headed for home. Jaime was still talking, obviously unaware. Brienne crossed her legs and looked out of the window. The streets of King’s Landing was awashed with lights from the Winterfest decorations. In the air was the gentle note of snow due to fall any time. The haze of lights was hypnotic, perfect for getting lost in thoughts.   
When the limo pulled up at Jaime’s place, he gave her a look. He was frowning and confused, for the first time realizing something was amiss. Brienne met his stare then made her way out of the car. She strolled on the path to unlock the door.

Two months was too early for couple to regard the other’s place as an extension of theirs but this was how she felt. They exchanged keys less than a month after they first fucked, and since then, had been storing essentials in the other’s closet, fridge. This level of commitment and intimacy had scared her with Oberyn, hence her great hesitation when they moved in. Nothing similar to it was felt with Jaime. Everything was seamless and natural. This was their mode from the very beginning.

She shrugged off her coat, storing it neatly in the closet. Jaime was behind her, feeling his gaze still on her. Another look passed between them and she inclined with her head to follow her. 

Tired and upset, the walk to the study felt long and meandering. But they had a problem, and she didn’t believe in shelving it aside for a moment. Not this one. 

“Care to tell me what’s bothering you, wench?” Jaime asked as he followed her inside. 

His desk stood between them, a wide, hard slab of reddish-brown wood built to last. Brienne looked at him leaning against the doorway, looking smug and making her want to punch him. Her eyes scanned the awards and other citations the industry and the entertainment world had given Kingsguard before focusing on him.

“We need to talk.”

She sounded so grave that the easy glitter from his eyes vanished and he straightened up. “What’s wrong?”

“You hired me as your manager. You have made it clear many times that when it comes to your career, you have the final say. That I will never take away from you. But if you remember, I only ask that you talk to me first about what you intend to do. Like it or not, as your manager, your career is my responsibility.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then why did you just go about swearing to all of Westeros you’re going to sing that fucking song naked on live TV!” She suddenly yelled, causing Jaime to jump.

“That’s what’s making you mad? I thought you’d be proud of me. I’m giving back. It’s a fun incentive—“

“Not when you’re going to be made into a joke. I could care less if you’ll walk around the Red Keep naked but talk to me about it first! Let me in on the decision, Jaime.”

“Why are you so upset? This is just like when I promised all my shares to Westeros Children’s Fund.”

“No it isn’t. That gesture is not going to take anything from you. It’s only money. You can always make money. You have too much, anyway Singing the song naked on live TV is different. Haven’t you learned enough from The Alliance for Values and Morals? You’re going to make a most unnecessary spectacle of yourself.”

“Who am I talking to?” Jaime suddenly demanded. “My manager or my girlfriend?”

“What do you think?” She shot back.

“Come here.” Jaime sat down on the leather sofa. “Let’s talk. I don’t want to fight.”

“No. The moment I sit down you’re going to manipulate me with sex. Don’t deny it. You do it, sometimes. You’re not fucking your way out of this one, Jaime.” Despite the vehemence in her voice, her nipples tightened painfully, eagerly. Her thighs were still wet from when he licked her. 

_“That’s not fair.”_

“So is not trusting me.”

Jaime shook his head. “Brienne, please. Come here. I won’t do any of the things you mentioned. We can talk about this.”  
Brienne stood her ground. “We are talking about this. Jaime, do you realize the implications of what you said? How are you going to get the comeback you want with your behavior?”

His eyes narrowed into sharp slits. “Clarify this to me, wench. Are you sure we’re not related? The few Lannisters around are on my ass.” His gaze flicked to the top of her head. “You sure have the hair for it.”

Jaime was sarcastic and mocking, qualities that tried her but never, never had she been hurt because of them. Until now. Brienne could only answer him with silence, wanting to hurl every insult at him but realizing it was pointless. They would never see eye to eye on this. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. Brienne was disgusted. She had never cried. Never over a man for any reason.

“I think,” she said with a calm that surprised even herself. “I should go home.”

“You are home,” Jaime told her.

“No. I want to sleep in my own bed. Alone.” 

Jaime looked ready to protest but he saw the resolve in her face. He looked crushed.

“Don’t go.”

She shook her head and made for the door. He tried to get her to look in his eyes but she brushed past him, her footsteps heavy. She headed for the closet to get her coat.

“Don’t. I’m begging you,” Jaime said. He was a few feet behind her, giving her space. “Brienne.”

“I’m doing my best, Jaime. I think I am. But if you’re not going to warn me in advance of certain actions, I don’t know how you expect me to do my job.” She said, shrugging on her coat and sliding a side-long glance at him. “It’s not that you should ask for my permission. I’m not going to agree all the time but all I want is to be told in advance. So that if things don’t turn out as you hope I know what to do.”

“I am sorry.”

“About what exactly?” She asked with a sigh. She pulled out her phone to get car service.

Watching her swipe across the screen, Jaime said. “The last time someone I loved left was the last time I saw her. Let’s talk about this.”

“You’re not being serious. And I’m not going to waste any more effort tonight. I’m tired.” Her voice was firm. She refused to be manipulated as he was doing now. “I want to sleep in my own bed alone.”

“It’s not like I planned it!” Jaime exclaimed. “I thought you of all people would be thrilled. It’s trending!” He showed her his phone. Crow was filled with #nakedlion, #starknakedjaime, #lannisterlion, #showtheslayer and #hearmeroar. “This is how I will get my career back! It just came to me. I swear it.”

“I know. But you couldn’t have come to me during commercial break? You couldn’t have waited until tomorrow when we go on the Up, Westeros and the Late, Late, Show?”

“And what would you have said?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t told in advance,” she retorted.

The cellphone dinged, indicating that a car had arrived. Jaime pushed himself between her and the door. He looked desperate.  
She looked at him. “Let me through.”

“You don’t understand how it’s terrifying for me that you’re leaving like this?”

“What about how _I_ feel? No, not tonight, Jaime.”

“Brienne—“

“We both know I can pick you up off the ground. Don’t make me ask you, please.”

They stared at each other. His was imploring, hers, cool. Then he stepped aside and opened the door.

“Please call me when you get home,” he told her as icy evening air swooped in. Her answer was a terse nod. 

His eyes burned into her back but she refused to look at him. And he looked at her until the car turned around the corner, and even afterward.

 

When thirty minutes passed without a call from Brienne, Jaime dialed her number. It went to voicemail. Voicemail. She always took his calls. Always. 

“I asked you to call.” He said, stemming his annoyance. “Call me. Please.”

Five minutes later he got a text message: _Home._

She was pissed.

He typed back. Call me.

His phone buzzed a second later. _Tired._

Me: Let me come over. Please. I need you. I don’t have to sleep with you. I just need to be with you.

MyLadyWench: _No._

The hands of the clock ticked towards midnight. Most people would be asleep by then but not Jaime and Brienne. It did find them in bed, but either fucking or talking, sometimes doing both at the same time. Both night owls, they loved the silence of the dark hours and were at times very productive with work. When he still found himself restless after fucking, he went downstairs to play the guitar. The repertoire was old Kingsguard songs or new ones he composed. 

Brienne was a heavy sleeper but sometimes she joined him. Looking sweetly bedraggled and sleepy, she sat across from him, just watching, a soft smile on her swollen lips. At one point, they would fuck. Brienne was more uninhibited, screaming so much that more than once the neighbors had complained. Legs heavy and tired from their exertion brought them back to the bedroom, where it was more quiet and she could scream as loudly as she wanted. But more often, they just slept. 

Sleeping with a lover was an intimacy Jaime had not particularly enjoyed until lately. He’d had only two serious relationships before Brienne. He’d like to think he loved the women in a way but sleeping with them after sex was just something he couldn’t understand why he had to do. The few times he tried it, he couldn’t sleep at all. The pillows were too soft, the scent of floral perfume was thick, she was clingy. One of them would sneak away when he slept over, applying gloss and little make-up so she woke up looking pretty. 

Brienne snored, she stole the blankets, she hogged the bed. Getting her knee on his ribs was normal. When she slept on him, she drooled on his t-shirt. She woke up with her hair a tangled mess piled on her head, looking like a bird’s nest, and felt like it too. Her lips were chapped and her sleep shirts had holes. Yet he loved sleeping with her. Loved wrestling her for his share of the blanket. He slept with his best friend and the only woman he would love. 

They have not been together romantically long but Brienne’s presence was ingrained in a way that it felt she had always been there. He liked coming home to find her working in his study or making a meal in the kitchen. Just as well when they stayed at her house. They watched TV or went for a walk. She was there, no matter what. 

For the first time since the night she blurted out her engagement and announced she wouldn’t have anything to do with him anymore, Jaime was truly, once again, alone.

An hour passed since she left yet it was enough to show him that this was what awaited if he didn’t fix things. He would undo everything if he could. He just didn’t know how. Reneging on that vow to perform the song nude would make him a laughingstock so that was out. Brienne claimed he didn’t trust her. The truth was he didn’t trust himself anymore, hence the gimmicks.

The Wolfboyz was now number four while his single just about made it number ten. Winterfest was in three weeks. Only a miracle could help him and even a naked Jaime Lannister, fine specimen as he was, was not enough. 

Brienne was wrong. He trusted her. But she was right too-- he should have talked to her first. He missed leaping right into the fire but definitely not the bear trap. 

It was a long, restless night, tossing and turning. Her scent was in bed with him, the mattress indented by her familiar shape. Her absence made his throat tight and his heart hurt as if slowly being squeezed dry. It made the ache in his cock nothing. Every inhale of her scent was a reminder of her absence. It tore him up. 

Sometimes, he forgot their nearly ten-year difference. They were on similar wavelengths most of the time, as well as a lot of shared interests and beliefs. The tendency was he forgot how young she was. Brienne was one of the few people around who still clung to the ideals of trust and loyalty—she also had the habit of demanding people they give her their word. It was cute but now he realized it was the code she lived by. When you gave Brienne Tarth your promise, she expected you to follow through. If you refused to trust her, she wouldn’t hesitate to sever connections. 

He couldn’t face life without his wench.

_You’re the biggest fool to walk this earth, Jaime._

Come morning, he was roused by the alarm on his phone. Another morning show. A very cruel, early call time. He sat up, staring wistfully at the empty spot beside him before leaving for the bathroom.

Showered and dressed, he checked the phone for messaged or missed calls. Nothing. Frowning, he went downstairs, helping himself to an apple off the bowl and chewing it. It was halfway finished when the doorbell rang.

Now that pissed him off. She was angry, fine. But he was not going to stand for formality of any kind from her. Gods. He loved and fucked the obstinate woman. Jaime loathed walls and had no intention of scaling them. He would smash it if she had erected them. Due to the direction of his thoughts, he threw the door open with more force than usual, staring in confusion at the blank space before a familiar voice spoke from below.

“Tyrion? What the fuck?” He demanded.

“Brienne told me to bring you to the studio,” Tyrion said. 

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. But she called me last night to take care of you for the day. Luckily, being the CEO, I can clear my calendar any time of the day,” Tyrion said. He straightened up the collar of his smart black suit. “Shall we, big brother?”

“She didn’t say anything, told you where she is?” Jaime asked as he shortened the length of his strides while following Tyrion down the path.

“No. Why? Don’t you know? Curious.”

“Shut up.”

“Perchance, she’s not pissed because of what you said last night, is she?” Tyrion asked as they approached the limo. It was the one for Tyrion’s personal use, not the rental. “Personally, I thought it was a smart move. And a little desperate.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. Do you have coffee in there?” Jaime demanded, nodding at Bronn. Bronn was Tyrion’s valet, and apparently fulfilled other duties as well. 

“Good morning, Mr. Lannister,” Bronn said, opening the door. He had black hair and a high, receding hairline. His eyes were charcoal-gray. Despite the approaching winter, his skin was a rich tan. 

“No need to be polite,” Tyrion told him. “He’s a bigger asshole than me.”

“I’m not doing this for either of you.” Bronn said as he opened the door.

Jaime peered inside and took a deep, calming breath. He glared at Tyrion, who spread his hands helplessly.

“I did warn you, brother,” Tyrion was apologetic.

“Get in here,” Tywin Lannister ordered. “We need to talk.”


	2. Bring Your Daddy

“You disappear for nearly two years without telling me you’re leaving. You come back and refuse to see me and now, you’ve brought utter shame to the family my grandfather, my father, and I have been protecting and ensuring the legacy by inviting all of Westeros to see all of you.” Tywin Lannister’s jaw was tight. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Jaime stared back at his father. His blond hair was now white and slicked back from his high forehead, baring the lines of his face and the steel of his emerald eyes. His features were sharp, elegant. Tywin Lannister was a handsome man in his youth but because he looked displeased and angry all the time, it was beginning harder and harder to believe. One thing that he retained through good and bad was his elegance and presence. Even sitting down, Tywin Lannister could make you wet your pants.  
Father and son never saw eye to eye. Jaime was his biggest disappointment due to the rebellious streak he was born with. He could never be told what to do, and the more he was told not to, he did it with gusto. Jaime didn’t bully children, never stole, never damaged school property but always questioned authority or ignored it altogether. This was one explanation for his low grades and boredom with school. He was kicked out of three boarding schools and one private school before Tywin consigned his son’s fate to the gods and sent him to public school. Jaime graduated by the skin of his teeth, yet surprised everyone when he granted admission to Westeros University.

The divide between them had always been there, and worsened after Joanna’s untimely death. Jaime retreated into the solace of rock music, Cersei clinging to him out of fear of being blamed by her death. She trusted no one else but Jaime. He loved his sister but was angry at how Tywin lifted not a single finger to help deal with her grief and guilt. When taking care of his sister and school responsibilities, plus the pressure of taking over the Lannister businesses when he came of age became too much, Jaime dropped out of school and started Kingsguard. He didn’t only piss off Tywin, but also Aerys Targaryen, who also had high expectations on his eldest son Rhaegar.

Jaime loved it when he got on people’s nerves. Especially his Father. People took themselves too seriously when life was too short. He approached it full throttle, never knowing what the middle ground was. Now, his life centered on music and loving Brienne. Loving ugly, scowling, sex goddess Brienne.

That was the hope.

“I hope it’s not too cold in the studio,” Jaime replied. Beside him, Tyrion rolled his eyes then kicked him on the knee. The brothers glared at each other. 

“Whose brilliant idea was this?” Tywin demanded. “Your manager? That woman?”

“Her name is Brienne. Call her Brienne, Father,” Jaime said coldly. “Yes, she is my manager. And also the woman I fuck. It wasn’t her idea.” 

“How nice that the money put in your education has made you fluent in gutter speak.”

“A sound investment.”

“Gentlemen,” Tyrion said carefully, looking at them. “If we could remain focus on this meeting?”

“Of course you treat this as another of your meetings,” Jaime drawled to Tywin. “Thank you for squeezing me in, Father. Or rather your secretary. Give her my regards.”

“You don’t really intent to perform naked, don’t you?” Tywin demanded.

“I don’t drop promises just like that. Just as you drilled in our heads never to make an idle threat, so do I never swear vows recklessly. So, yes. I intend to. Should the single hit number one.”

“You don’t care about the family at all, don’t you? I let you do as you wanted earning your living screaming at a microphone, didn’t stop you from dropping out of school. Never stopped you from anything. And this is how you repay me?”  
“Wasn’t aware of a debt.” Jaime cocked an eyebrow at Tyrion. “You’re my financial advisor. You should have told me.”  
“Jaime,” Tyrion admonished him. “Be serious, for once.”

“That’s just it. I am serious. If performing naked isn’t an indication of serious commitment to what I do, that’s your problem, not mine.”

“You’re forty-five years old and you still act like a teenager. You want to convince me you’re a grown up adult? Get a real job. Marry a suitable woman—“

“Populate the world with roaring cubs,” Jaime finished, sounding bored. He had been hearing this his whole life. Him, Cersei and Tyrion. 

“You know, my screaming at the microphone—if isn’t a real job, I wonder where my millions come from. Oh, right. I just realized. It’s because it’s a job. What you see as me just screaming and making an ass out of myself is the result of years of sacrifice and hard work. If it isn’t a real job, Father, we’d have more rock stars.”

“You enjoy this, don’t you. Embarrassing the family.”

“Correction: I enjoy what I do immensely. If I embarrass anyone, it’s just you. Tyrion likes what I do.” He grinned at his brother. 

“Don’t rope me into this,” Tyrion complained.

“Traitor.” 

Tywin glared at them. “I sometimes wonder if the gods gave me children like you to teach me about humility.”

“Trying to teach you anyway,” Jaime said. Tyrion shot him another look, giving a quick shake of his head.

“I believe further discussion about the matter could be tabled for another time,” Tyrion said to Tywin. “We have a full day. All of us.”

Tywin’s eyes were cool as ice as they stared at Jaime. Jaime stopped himself from squirming in his seat. When their father stared like that, what followed was never good. The last time that happened, Kingsguard had just scored another hit, The Rains of Castamere. Legend had it that the then-head of House Lannister had all members of a rival house, House Reyne, murdered, for attempting to rebel. It was all legend, there was no documentary proof about the Reynes, from the oldest, and wizened member to the youngest infant being forced into a cave and drowned alive. Jaime capitalized on it by writing the song. Tywin was not pleased. It was hypocritical being that his father did use it to strike fear on anyone attempting to topple him, as did his father and his father before him. 

“Brienne gave me your calendar,” Tyrion told Jaime. “Bless your girl. I really don’t have to do much but just bring you from Point A to Point B.”

“She hasn’t told you anything?” Jaime hoped he didn’t sound desperate. It was only hours since they last saw each other but it was making him uneasy. He was no asshole to have her tell him where she was at all times but their argument remained unresolved. Couldn’t she still be furious at him but at least text that she was in the shower, or in a meeting? And if she was in the shower send him a photo?

Tyrion smirked. “Did you have a lovers’ quarrel?”

He flushed. “Shut up.”

Tywin, who was still staring at Jaime, pulled out his cellphone and made a call. His message was brief. “Cancel all my appointments today. Yes, even with the ambassador.” He put the device back in his phone pocket, his expression inscrutable as his sons stared at him in shock. 

His next words were the most terrifying thing he had ever uttered so it was a miracle Jaime and Tyrion’s bladders didn’t let loose.  
“Alright, Jaime. Show me what your day is like in this job of yours.”

 

Brienne had two cartons of saltines in the cart as well as bottles of sports drinks when the call came. Frowning, she pulled the phone out of the bag and narrowed her eyes at Jaime’s grinning face. She didn’t answer it. 

She had only pushed the cart a few meters when the phone rang again. This time it was Tyrion. 

Now if she talked to Tyrion but not Jaime, Jaime would be pissed.

If she talked to Jaime, she would get more pissed.

If she talked to neither brother, they would be pissed.

_Nah. Don’t care._ She put a chocolate bar in the cart. 

Still upset from last night, Brienne made arrangements with Tyrion to take over during Jaime’s morning show guesting and at another late-night show. It was only supposed to be for the latter show because her morning was free until she had to go to the studio for the live broadcast of The Band finale. She was thinking of asking Jaime to come along to the after-party but that was shot now. 

It was just as well she made sure to get in touch with Tyrion right away. Twice this morning she had to run to the bathroom to throw up. The rest of her felt alright but she must have eaten something bad—she suspected it was one of the crabmeat sandwiches from the green room the previous night. Her stomach appeared to have calmed down and she seized the opportunity to hit the store for herbal tea, sports drinks and crackers.

At the check-out line, her phone rang again. Jaime again. It was petty to give him the silent treatment and she wasn’t as upset now. But knowing Jaime, he would just say sorry for the sake of saying it. All morning, the store was abuzz with Jaime’s appearance over at Edd’s show and the reaction was either derision or laughter. Jaime was gorgeous but to a lot of people, getting naked for a number one hit was desperate. 

“From the mighty lion of the charts, Jaime Lannister has resorted to practically prostituting himself for scraps,” Petyr Baelish said with barely-contained glee at the show this morning. Brienne had been watching as she got dressed to go to the store.

“Oh, I don’t know, Petyr,” Melisandre said. “I would pay to see that handsome lion in all his glory. But let’s see how Westeros is reacting. Here’s our man on the street, Olyvar.”

Just as there were people excited for Jaime’s offer, there were others who didn’t know who he was or didn’t care, or thought he was desperate. Olyvar only interviewed five but the negative reaction was closely tied with the excited ones. This is what Brienne feared. Wolfboyz was outselling him by a huge margin and there were only a few weeks. Only a miracle could save him.

Brienne waited until he stopped calling then checked for voice messages. There were three from him, and one from Tyrion.

“I just realized I can’t sleep without you,” was his first message. She thought he sounded surprised.“I love it when you snore in my ear.”

Brienne grunted under her breath and played the next.

“Wench, something’s happened. Call me.”

The third message was, “My father insists on going to the studio with me—to everything I’ll be doing today!" He wailed. "Wench, I have a meeting with the Westeros Children’s Fund. I can’t take that man with me. He’s going to scare off the kids and what will they think of me? Help.”

The last message was from Tyrion: “I don’t know what happened between you and my brother. My guess is Jaime was once again a classic idiot so whatever it is, I’m on your side, Brienne. Well, you’re taller and bigger. Of course. Our father insists on coming to work with us. Me. And Jaime. I’m begging you, get us away from him.”

That was interesting, she thought, handing over a few bills and picking up the bag. Tywin Lannister coming to work with his boys. It was sweet, actually. 

When she returned home, she was feeling a little better but still didn’t trust her appetite. She munched on a saltine as she went back to bed, sleepy from her interrupted sleep earlier. She set the alarm on her phone and tugged her sheets to her chin.

No sooner had she closed her eyes when the phone rang. Again. Groaning, she stared at Jaime’s face, sighed and answered sullenly, “What now?”

“Haven’t you been getting my messages?” He demanded.

“I have. So?” She glugged the sports drink. Oddly satisfying with the saltines. 

He sighed. “Wench, I understand you’re still mad at me. I should have run it by you or gotten your advice. Please don’t think I don’t trust you. I do. I’m just an ass about it.”

Not the heartfelt apology she envisioned but this was Jaime. He didn't do it with flowers but honesty. He might send a box of condoms, though.

“You’ve done everything to get me back on stage and I should trust you more. I’m sorry about the crack about, where, you know, I asked if you were angry as a manger or my girlfriend. I’m still doing it, wench, the naked thing, if the record hits number one. I hope you’ll be there. Not naked, of course. That’s just for me to see.”

Brienne lay back on the pillows. He asked, “Where are you?”

“I’m in bed. Why are you calling?”

“I thought you got my messages.”

“I did. And I don’t see what the problem is. You and Tyrion are acting like jackasses to your Father.”

“Seven bloody hells _what?_ ”

“So your father wants to see how you do your job. Why are you being drama queens about it?”

“You do know the shitty relationship we have with him?”

“You think that. He clearly doesn’t. If you don’t mind, I should rest. I only have a few hours before we shoot the finale of The Band.”

“Are you alright?” Jaime asked. “Sick?”

“Just a stomach bug. And don’t wiggle out of the engagement to come here, Jaime. You have commitments. Let your Father see you and Tyrion in action. What’s wrong with that? I think it’s really sweet of him.”

“You clearly don’t know my father.”

“Obviously you don’t either.” Brienne told him. “Look, you should get off the phone. You have a show. I need to rest.”

“I’m coming over after the meeting with WCF.”

“You can’t.”

“Wench—“

“You’ve apologized but I still think we need to talk. We need to establish clear ground rules about your career. And you can’t come over because it’s The Band’s finale and there’s an after-party.”

“I’ll go to the after-party then.”

That was what she wanted. Before. But now—“

“Look, we’ll see each other when it happens, alright?”

“You’re still mad,” Jaime deduced.

Brienne snuggled deeper under the sheets.< /p>

“I don’t know.”

“I love you, you know.”

She blushed, in spite of how she was feeling. 

“I can hear you blushing.” Jaime said. “Wench, tell me when can I see you again if you don’t want me nagging you.”< /p>

She bit her lip. “You can come over after the party. I’ll be here by two, then.”

“Okay. We’ll talk.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“I love you,” he said again.

Brienne said tersely, “I’ll see you,” then hung up.


	3. Blood on the Dancefloor

This was punishment. After years of good fortune, this was it. The Seven had come to collect their debt. With fucking interest.  
Jaime and Tyrion thought Tywin was only bluffing about spending the whole day with them. After the morning show, Jaime had interviews with magazines, both print and online, as well as websites. Then there was a photo shoot scheduled at the last minute for the Westeros Sunday Times’ Music section, and a profile. Ideally, they should be scheduled separately but when Brienne made the arrangement, Jaime insisted that this coming weekend be free. The grind of promotion was getting to him and all he wanted was a weekend in bed with his wench. They could fuck or just sleep. When Jaime squinted from the lights as his photo was taken, the photographer called out that he should look pensive but not worried. He had no idea what pensive meant but he thought about watching Brienne sound asleep beside him, her straw-colored hair a tangled pile on her head, her thick blond eyebrows and thin eyelashes, broken nose and full-lipped wide mouth. Watching her sleep for a few minutes in the morning was a recent indulgence and his thoughts flew to the future easily, like in one leap. 

Whatever pensive meant, he nailed it because the photographer suggested that he look smug next, with a smirk. That was easy. Just imagining Brienne screaming and thrashing wildly under him as he fucked her did it. Next, he was told to smile. To think of happy thoughts. Easy too. Brienne doing yoga. The sapphire piercings winking from her nipples. Her freckles. That Evenstar tattoo on her left inner thigh. Brienne scowling. Brienne calling him an idiot or a stupid fucker. Brienne in the shower, her skin slick and red, nipples tight, her cunt hairs dark and dripping. 

Two hours thinking of his wench was far from bad. At least they had spoken so she probably wasn’t as furious with him anymore. If only his father wasn’t around.

Tywin went through every guesting and sat with him at his every interview, despite Tyrion telling him he shouldn’t. When a bright-eyed, perky reporter gushed at how much she admired his music, Tywin glared at her and declared, “My son is spoken for.”

The reporter looked confused and disappointed. Jaime shrugged and smiled. “It’s true. I have a lady.”

When another female interviewer gushed, Tywin cocked an eyebrow at the modest wedding ring she wore and the tiny diamond of her engagement ring. “Clearly your husband has a lot to do to get you satisfied.”

The last straw was during the photo shoot when the photographer told Jaime to growl at the camera. As he was thinking of ripping Brienne’s blouse open and feasting on her cute little tits, Tywin bellowed from behind, “This is seriously what you do all day? Dealing with brain-dead questions and ordered about as if you’re a circus monkey? You’re a Lannister!”

Jaime turned to glare at him as Tyrion and Bronn ushered him out of the studio. Tyrion returned a few minutes later, a bland smile on his face. As the photographer continued to bang away, he announced, “Low blood sugar. You know how old people are.”

The Late, Late Show won’t be until twelve midnight so Jaime had a few hours to rest up. Brienne, anticipating he would be too tired to go all the way home then back, had booked him in suite in Crownlands Hotel, putting him in the White Sword Suite. Tyrion was in the suite next door and informed Jaime he would swing by to get him at ten-thirty so they would arrive in time for the show’s call-time at eleven.

While Tyrion napped, Jaime hit the to lift some weights and to run for thirty minutes on the treadmill. He went to the sauna next, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall as the warmth drew all the stress and impurities from his body away. He had a light meal in his suite, set the alarm then slept.

He was up at eight, refreshed despite only a few hours’ sleep. He ordered coffee and ice cream sent up before parking himself in front of the TV. He flicked through the channels before finding the live finale telecast of The Band. It was just starting and the mentors, a has-been rock star whose name Jaime couldn’t remember, a popular music magazine editor and Rhaegar and Brienne were being interviewed. He frowned at how close they sat together, and it deepened when Rhaegar put a hand on her thigh at one point and Brienne just laughed. His wench looked fantastic in a simple black dress with a slit from her left leg to her thigh. 

“Brienne,” the host was saying, “you’re back to managing Jaime Lannister. Now he’s known for never staying within the lines and now he’s promised to perform naked, live, if his song makes it to number one. Is this advice you’d give? Because since he said that, the ratio between his record sales and Wolfboyz is getting smaller and smaller. From four to one, it’s now two to one.

The crowd cheered and Brienne, her cheeks pink and looking lovely and delectable, grasped the microphone. Jaime’s face relaxed.

“First, I have never stopped managing Jaime. He took time off but I have always been his manager. You’re right about Jaime being. . .unpredictable but that’s how artists work, I think. They never do the same thing twice, you can never tell them to do anything. As for getting naked to sell, well, if you can walk the talk, I won’t stop you. But when you’re talented and you work hard, getting naked to perform live is unnecessary although with some people who fulfill the criteria, it’s a nice bonus to fans.”

“So I guess this means Jaime Lannister will perform naked if the `Winterfest Is All Round’ is number?”

Jaime grinned as she visibly reddened. “Jaime never backs down from anything.”

Rhaegar cut in smoothly, “That’s the essence of rock, you know. It’s never staying within the lines, it’s never following the rules. It’s never back down or walking away from anything.”

His room service order arrived. By then, the mentors were done with their interview. Jaime scooped chocolate ice cream to his lips, watching as the last two bands that were eliminated performed. There endless montages of the remaining two bands moping about music, their families, playbacks of their auditions and subsequent performances. He laughed at Brienne yelling that famous or not, they had no right to be primadonnas. Then there was Rhaegar, calm but displeased at lackadaisical performance the band he was mentoring gave.

Brienne was right about the show. It was terrible and went against everything that rock stood for. Groups who were genuinely talented were voted off simply because they weren’t good-looking enough. The last two groups left looked like demi-gods that could give Wolfboyz and even Jaime a run for their money. They performed good enough but they were unremarkable. No wonder she refused to be in the show for the second season. 

The winner was some band that would be lucky to have one hit before they faded back to obscurity. Drowned by confetti, Jaime thought dismissively as he turned off the TV and to get dressed. Spying his phone on the table, he left a voice message for Brienne.

“I’m watching and you look great. I miss you. Can’t wait to see you. I love you.”

He didn’t have to change into fancy clothes because there was a suit waiting for him in the studio. Tyrion knocked on the door as he was putting on shoes. Jaime opened the door to let him in but froze when he saw his baby brother wasn’t alone.

Tyrion looked defeated. Tywin was scowling.

“I heard that Arthur Dayne is a good interviewer.” Tywin declared.

Still shocked, Jaime could only stare at him then his brother.

Tywin spread his palms in apology.

“We can’t stop you,” Jaime told Tywin.”But I wouldn’t appreciate another outburst from you You will do as you’re told, sit where you’re told, do as you’re told. If you don’t I’ll have you thrown out by security, Father.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Alright. I wouldn’t. I’ll have Arthur do it.”

Jaime watched the conflict on his father’s face. It would be humiliating for Jaime to do it, but even more when a stranger did and Jaime just watched. The two men sized each other up. Neither looked ready to relent.

“You don’t like what I do but if you’re going to tag along, you will be polite and act your age. If nothing still pleases you, you’ll shut up.”

Tyrion bit back a smile. Tywin glared at Jaime.

“Do we have an agreement, Father?”

 

Rhaegar offered to drive them to the after-party. Brienne took the time to check her messages, first opening Jaime’s voice message. Her heart raced a little at the simple but thoughtful message. She texted back: _Be great, just no more surprises. I’ll see you home. I love you too._

Though she was feeling better, she was tired and even felt sleepy. Brienne decided to stay for an hour at most before heading home. She hoped to stay longer, if her body allowed it, since the party was opportunity to network and promote Jaime and his song. Now that she no longer had any contractual obligations to The Band, she felt relaxed and free. 

She walked the red carpet with Rhaegar although if it were up to her, she’d go through a back entrance. But since they were together and he was a celebrity, she had no choice. Just as she had little choice to tell him about hurrying up. The flashbulbs were irritating her eyes, putting to test the waterproof claim of her mascara. For every three steps, some reporter would pounce on them, requesting for either a soundbite or a quick interview. She expected Rhaegar to get all the questions so she was surprised when the microphone turned to her. At least, it gave her the excuse to break away from his too-friendly hold around her waist. They were good friends, close friends, and she was sure they had touched like this before. Since beginning a relationship with Jaime, she wasn’t very comfortable with another man touching her in whatever manner, no matter how innocent the intent. 

It took close to an hour before they made it inside the party. By then her feet were killing her. And she was famished. Brienne couldn’t remember excusing herself to Rhaegar before charging down the buffet table. As people called out to her, all she gave them were quick perfunctory waves, her eyes dark and a vivid blue as they arrowed in on the buffet. She barely acknowledged the winners of the contest, just nodding at them—to think they were the band she had mentored. They were blond and pale, ghostly with their silver eye shadow that emphasized their bright eyes that were either blue or close to silver. They called themselves White Walkers. 

Since it was a celebrity event, the repertoire of food were low-carb, sugar-free, flourless, gluten-free—in the words of Jaime’s Lannister, “utter shit.” She managed to find some indulgences such as bacon wrapped sweet potato puffs and melon and cantaloupe balls also wrapped, but in prosciutto. She nearly wept and dropped to her knees in gratitude to the Seven upon spying a dark chocolate and white chocolate fountain. She was the only person in this food station, giddy as she dipped fruit and pastry skewers in the chocolate pool.

The food revived her but her stomach had become a bottomless pit. She chewed and sampled, moaned in a way that would make her blush under normal circumstances but she was too busy stuffing her face to care.

She was helping herself to some iced tea when she spotted the familiar faces of. . .gods damn it. What were the fucking Wolfboyz doing here?

Annoyed, she watched them circulate the crowd. Theon Greyjoy was walking arm in arm with Ramsay Bolton, the Stark brothers, Robb and Bran, followed close behind. Sullen-faced Jon Snow brought up the rear. The rest of the guys looked pretty stoked to be in the party except him. That made him smart in Brienne’s eyes.

Idiots, she thought, turning away to get more of the sweet potato puffs wrapped in bacon. As she did, an arm wrapped around her waist. A startled squeak came from her yet her body instantly melted in anticipation. Smiling, she turned around and. . . 

“I’m beginning to feel rejected,” Rhaegar told her, smiling. “Come on. Dance with me.”

Before she could refuse, he tugged her with startling force to the dance floor.

The deejay was spinning semi-fast tunes so at least they didn’t have to stand so close together. At least, Brienne kept her distance but Rhaegar kept closing in. Summoning an awkward laugh, she held out her hands in front of her and said, “Hey, this is fine.”

But Rhaegar took her hands and pressed them to his shoulders. Brienne stiffened as his chest brushed against her breasts. “Don’t you think this is better?”

She looked at him straight in the eye and said firmly, “No.”

Rhaegar looked startled. As Brienne started moving away from him, blushing at her surprising bluntness, a snide voice said from behind, “Mind if I cut in? That is if you don’t mind putting this sweet bromance on hold, Ray-Ray.”

They turned around and saw Ramsay grinning at them. Behind him stood the rest of the Wolfboyz.

“You’re Jaime Lannister’s manager, aren’t you?” Ramsay’s smile didn’t reach the ghostly paleness of his eyes. Brienne couldn’t make heads or tails why teenaged girls squealed over him. The rest of the group she could understand but this guy? 

“Yes,” she answered, peering down at him, glad that she was much taller. “What’s it to you?”

“How is it backing a losing team?” Ramsay asked. The Wolfboyz howled, even Jon, but he was quick to cast Brienne an apologetic look.

Rhaegar stepped forward, putting Brienne behind him. She cocked an eyebrow at him and planted herself right beside him.  
“This is a night for celebration,” he told them. “People worked hard to get here. Don’t ruin this.”

“Rhaegar Targaryen,” Ramsay drawled. “You are fucking ancient.”

Rhaegar’s smile was cold. “And?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime, grandpa?” Ramsay burst out laughing as did the Wolfboyz. They high-fived each other and turned back to them, still chuckling. 

Brienne took Rhaegar’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“Hiding behind your little woman, are you?” Robb said, chuckling. He looked at Brienne from head to toe. “Well, not exactly little. Not even sure about the woman bit, actually.”

Brienne advanced forward and Rhaegar flung an arm to prevent her. The Wolfboyz laughed except for Jon. By then, they were beginning to attract a small crowd.

“Guys, let’s leave them alone. Nothing for us here,” he told his friends.

“We have everything for us here,” Ramsay declared. “I’m not sure about these two.”

“Whoever you are ,” Rhaegar told him his voice low and dangerous, “walk away before you regret it.”

“Or what?” Theon Greyjoy mocked. “You’ll hurt us? What’s a creaky old guy like you can do that we can’t?”

“Creaky!” Bran guffawed. 

“Your Jaime Lannister is so fucking desperate he thought to flash his cock to boost sales,” Robb told Brienne. “Being that we’re still outselling him, my bet is no one want to see that limp old dick of his.”

“I suppose you would know,” Brienne shot back, “because you’re some cock connoisseur?”

“That’s you, sister,” Ramsay said. “Isn’t it true that Loras sleeps on a bed of cocks?”

Brienne could take any insult about her but not for someone she regarded as a close friend, and especially not someone who wasn’t around to defend himself.

“Walk away,” Rhaegar repeated. _“Now.”_

“Oh, shove that fucking empty threat in your wrinkly ass,” Robb said.

“Guys,” Jon protested.

“No on wants a fight,” Rhaegar told them.

“A fight implies that the people involved have equal chances of winning,” Robb said sarcastically. “Is that really what you’re seeing here? Maybe you should have your eyes checked.”

Ramsay smirked and leered at Brienne. “That’s the only reason you look like you’re about to fuck this drag queen, Targaryen. You and Lannister. I’d bet each take turns giving it to this freak in the ass, eh?”

That did it. Rhaegar pulled his arm back to deliver a blow that would break Ramsay’s nose.

But Brienne was faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking so long to update. I've been sick and had other commitments so this update was backburnered repeatedly. I hope you like it! 
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos! 
> 
> Brienne's dress is similar to the one Gwen wore to the Craig Ferguson show in 2014.


	4. Unlikely Fanboys

Promotional tours were a tough son of a bitch but Jaime had learned to play the game long before. He was born with an endless reservoir a charm but had no need it of it—not with his good looks and his family money, his voice. Tapping into it was no trouble, however. Guesting on talk shows and bantering with the host, interviews—they were performances too. Exceedingly and fuckingly tedious but he was a pro when he wanted.

The audience at the Late, Late Show with Arthur Dayne was as easy to play as an old, favorite song on the guitar. Jaime knew the notes to strum without looking, knew which good notes to drag out, how to play the song in different versions that would leave the audience breathless and panting for more. It was easy and difficult. 

For the nth time, he wished Brienne was in the audience. Tyrion was always supportive. Tywin, at least, had remained quiet but he still looked disapproving. Jaime turned to smile at Arthur Dayne, the handsome, dark-haired host on his way becoming to a hotter silverfox in his fifties. He mentally played back the question and his smile widened, putting his dimples on maximum effect.

“Why, yes. I’m not bullshitting here. If the song hits number one, I’m performing it naked live. But the focus, Arthur,” he said, “are the children from the Westeros Children’s Fund who will benefit from the sale of my single.”

It had been fun visiting them. Jaime played soccer with them and he had pizzas delivered, to their screaming delight. He found himself once again wishing that Brienne had been there. These kids, orphans or fostered to protect them from abusive relatives, had been through so much and had lost a lot. An adult who genuinely enjoyed time with them, talked with them and had pizza had put smiles so bright on their faces that it was heartbreaking. Having grown up in a lot of privilege, where he lacked for nothing, it was humbling how something that didn’t take a lot of effort on his part made the children so happy. Officially, Jaime had pledged to donate one hundred percent of his shares to the charity. Speaking to Tyrion out of their father’s earshot earlier, he made arrangements to match the amount from his personal income.

It felt good, though it was still not enough. Brienne would be so proud.

The audience cheering brought him back to the present. Jaime focused on the tail-end of Arthur’s sentence.

“---would love a sample”

Jaime hid his confusion but chuckling. “You don’t say?”

“Seven Hells, yes, Jaime! If you’re going to show us the goods, we’d like to see a sample!” Arthurs said as the audience howled and applauded. Jaime laughed and shot to his feet. 

“Hold on,” Arthur pointed to the live band. “Some music to get us in the mood, eh?”

Laughter throbbed in the studio as the band played slow, playful stripper music. Jaime roared, waving his fist in the air before he started swaying his hips. The crowd got wilder. Arthur laughed and clapped.

Jaime, still dancing casually, shrugged off his suit jacket. Then he pulled up the bottom of his t-shirt, showing the firm slab of his abs. The crowd went from wild to high-octane. Arthur, in between chuckles, yelled at the band to stop so they did. Applause rang from every corner of the studio and Jaime sat down on the couch before reaching for his mug to sip the water there.

“So that’s a taste,” Arthur mused.

“I’m ready to give more,” Jaime rejoined. “But you’ll have to pay for that.”

More bantering followed before Jaime took the stage to perform Winterfest Is All Around. He hated the song but sang it well, crooning and dragging out the notes to the delight of the females in the audience. When the show ended, he felt a lift in his mood but knew he’d be better once with Brienne, in Brienne’s arms. Talk, she told him. They had to talk. He agreed.  
Tyrion and Tywin were waiting for him. They had gone to the green room before him. 

“So that’s what you do,” was all Tywin said.

"Not again, Father."

Tyrion looked grim. “Jaime, I got a call. Brienne’s in the hospital.”

 

It was a mistake to think night was getting better. While breaking that bastard Ramsay Bolton’s nose was the pretty icing on the cake, Brienne had broken her hand. It hurt like a motherfucker and all things of which there were no words to describe it.  
To top it off, the doctor on duty yet again was that grinning, annoying redhead bear from the night she hit her head on the hot tub. She couldn’t remember his name but she remembered how he had openly stared at her, licking his lips at one point when they settled on her nipples. He stood too close, stared too long and if she weren’t sure she could make him eat the plaster off the walls, would have yelled for Rhaegar. 

But Rhaegar was another problem. He had cradled her hand and seemed about to kiss her forehead before she snapped her head away and demanded that he focus on the fucking driving because she had no intention of dying this night or anytime soon. 

Brienne was glumly staring at the awkward curl of the fingers of her right hand when she heard a commotion outside, followed by the reassuring, demanding voice of Jaime Lannister. Her eyes brightened as the curtain was yanked aside sharply and there he stood, golden hair windblown, eyes wide with worry, his face pale. Her heart lurched and started to scramble off the bed but he shook his head. Then she was in his arms, pressed against the warm, firm comfort of his chest, breathing in the fading scent of his cologne and skin. To her surprise, she let out a sob.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing her temple and along the hair before a hand cupped her face so he could look at her. She closed her eyes as he brushed his lips lightly on hers then spoke, “They told me what happened.”

She sighed and nodded, torn between gladness at seeing him yet hating herself for getting in trouble. _I tell him to pick his battles and walk away and the minute he’s gone, I do the exact same thing._

“Ramsay Bolton insulted you,” she whispered as Jaime gently took her hand in both of his. She hissed even at the tender touch so he put it back on the table where she had it propped earlier. He rested his head against her cheek. 

“Rhaegar says he insulted you and him too,” he said. “My wench. How are you feeling?”

“The doctor just went to get my x-ray results,” she answered. “It’s been a long day.”

Jaime sat beside her and held her. Gratefully, she put her head on his shoulder. Despite being taller, there was no awkwardness in fitting herself against him. 

“You’re not mad at me?” She asked, her nose against his neck. 

“Why would I be mad?”

Blushing, she muttered, “I lecture you endlessly about unnecessary violence and look what I do.”

He chuckled and she looked up, puzzled.

“Wench,” he began affectionately.

_“Brienne.”_

“Uh-huh. My sweetheart wench.”

Despite her discomfort, she managed a wan smile. “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m not angry about what you did,” he told her. “If I were in your giant shoes, I’d do the same thing. But what upsets me is you not only went against the very things you lecture me about,” he added sternly, tapping her on the nose to reassure her he was just joking, “but you also hurt yourself.” 

They glanced at her hand before Brienne put her head back on his shoulder. 

“Are you feeling better, though?” Jaime asked, his lips moving against her forehead. “You told me when we spoke that you’re sick.”

“I ate something that upset me, that’s all.” 

Brienne was thinking that she could sleep like this, in his arms, her hand still throbbing, when the curtain was swept open. From the sudden stiffness of Jaime’s body, he also remembered the doctor. Wearily, she stared at the redhead bear who was openly glaring at Jaime.

“You again,” they said to each other.

“Is he hurting you?” He demanded to Brienne, who paled in shock at the insinuation.

“Of course not!” 

“She defended me,” Jaime growled at him. “I don’t approve one hundred percent but it’s done.”

“A big man like you needs defending?” The doctor mocked.

Brienne squinted at his name. “Dr. Giantsbane, my hand hurts like Seven Bloody Hells. I would break your nose with my other hand if you don’t stop insulting my boyfriend.”

The tension that was thick in the small room abated. Jaime hummed happily and tightened his hold on her shoulders while Giantsbane visibly got hold of himself and cleared his throat.

“I apologize,” he said gruffly. He showed her the X-ray films. “Your results, Miss Tarth. You broke your fingers and your wrist has a mild sprain. Nothing that two weeks in a cast, painkillers and quick therapy won’t fix.”

“Therapy?” Brienne demanded. “What the actual fuck—“

“Wench, hush,” Jaime squeezed her shoulders.

“You don’t understand,” she told him. “Jaime, you have guestings and photo shoots. Interviews—“

“Sweetheart,” and at that, her heart just boomed. “Let’s get your hand fixed first then worry about that, okay? Not that there’s much to worry about. Tyrion can take over.”

“Tyrion has another job.”

“Tyrion hates being behind the desk.”

“There’s only three weeks, Jaime!”

“If you’re done?” Giantsbane interjected impatiently. “I’d like to do _my_ job.”

“Brienne, it’s not a problem,” Jaime whispered.

“I’m your manager,” she hissed.

“I’m putting you on temporary leave.”

“What?”

Giantsbane, preparing the wrappings and bandages, shot them another warning glare. Brienne flushed and hissed to Jaime, “I broke a fucking hand, not a leg. I can walk. I can—“

“You’ll focus on getting better while Tyrion and I promote the hell out of my single.”

“Are you implying Tyrion is doing a better job?” That hurt.

“No! But I can’t focus on doing what you expect me to do when I’m worried about you hurting yourself even more.”

“He’s right, you know,” Giantsbane murmured as he held out his hand. “If I may have your hand hand, Miss Tarth.”

“Shut up,” Jaime ordered.

“Jaime,” Brienne sighed.

“You want us to talk about professional expectations? No time better than the present,” Jaime said. “I am sorry for promising to perform naked without consulting you. That’s what I regret, wench. I should have told you or involved you. You always worry about my idiotic, impulsive decisions and I understand. You only mean to protect me. You love me, after all. But this latest decision is not as idiotic as the ones I had made before. Brienne, people are talking about it. I still have a few weeks but I’m closing in on the Wolfboyz. I believe my record will hit number one. Now I need you to be on my team, at my side, believing the same thing. I’m sorry again but I swear that never will I make another decision with regards to my career without talking to you first.”

He spoke earnestly and desperately, firm in what he believed in yet also begging her to understand him, to see things from his side. Brienne watched dully as Giantsbane efficiently wrapped her hand.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, Brienne, but I only ask that you let me back into bed. I can’t sleep without you.”

Blushing hard, she whispered, “Jaime, it was only one night.”

“Too long and too painful.”

She narrowed her eyes and he flushed. “Not like that. I can no longer sleep without you.”

“You buying this shit?” Giantsbane growled to Brienne.

“Shut up,” she told him.

“I need you in my life, not just in my career, wench.” 

“Do you really mean it?” She asked him slowly. “You will talk to me about your career decisions first?”

“I swear it. I’ll have it notarized and witnessed by this oaf if you want.”

“This oaf,” Giantsbane sneered, “is treating your girlfriend’s hand.”

“Treating or fondling?” Jaime retorted. “Do your fucking job or I will have her break _your_ nose.”

“I’m a professional!”

“Just hurry,” Brienne said impatiently.

Jaime asked, “What do you say, wench?”

“All I want is that, Jaime. The professional courtesy as your manager. As your girlfriend, I’m,well, uh, thrilled, about people seeing how hot my boyfriend is. That’s the only way I’ll share you, with our mutual consent. But as your manager, decisions of this nature should be discussed from now on. I can’t do my job if you’ll just bulldoze your way through things, Jaime. I’m afraid of not being able to rescue you all the time.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m your manager.”

“I will never fire you if you can’t rescue me sometimes. I’m a grown man.”

“Sometimes, you’re not.”

He nodded. “Sometimes, I’m not.”

“See?”

"And an idiot."

"Agree." 

Giantsbane finished wrapping up her hand and fished out his prescription pad. As he spoke about not getting her hand wet (Jaime smirked at that, drawing an outraged blush from Brienne), the curtain was swept aside once again and Rhaegar peeked in. He looked about to speak then saw Jaime’s hand on Brienne’s thigh. 

“Oh,” he started backing away. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

“Hey,” Jaime stood up. “Rhaegar, it’s been a long time.”

He nodded. “It is.”

Giantsbane looked up then suddenly smacked himself on the cheek. “Seven bloody hells! Rhaegar Targaryen? Of Kingsguard?” His head whipped toward Jaime’s. “Fuck a goat, you’re Jaime Lannister? The Kingslayer?”

As the two men nodded quietly, he burst out laughing. “I knew there was something familiar about you, Jaime. I’m your biggest fan.”

 

Jaime and Rhaegar agreed to have a photo taken with the fucking doctor, taken by Bronn. Jaime was eager to leave the hospital, especially since Brienne’s eyes were beginning to droop. He held her by the waist, noting the look Rhaegar was once again giving them before he turned away.

Brienne, yawning, told the two men that they should arrange to meet soon. “You’re best friends,” she told them. “You haven’t seen each other in a long time. You have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Yes,” Rhaegar said solemnly. “We do.” To Jaime, he said, “I missed you, you know.”

Jaime smirked. “I know.”

“You should come over for dinner this weekend f you’re free,” Brienne said to Rhaegar. 

“That would be great,” Jaime agreed.

“How nice,” Rhaegar replied. “How can I say no?”

Brienne beamed and kissed him on the cheek. The slight dimming in Rhaegar’s purple eyes confirmed it. He was interested in Brienne. Had been interested. And the wench, innocent sweetheart that she was, had no idea.

“It’s been a long night. Thank you for defending me, Brienne,” Rhaegar said. To Jaime, he continued, “I believe your father and Tyrion are still waiting.”

Rhaegar bade them goodbye then left. Brienne turned to Jaime, her eyes big. “Your father’s here?”

He groaned. “He tagged along”

“Oh. Was it really that bad?”

Grateful for the opportunity to vent, Jaime gave her the dirty details. Brienne reddened, her mouth falling open at one point. When he finished, she gave him a small smile and hugged him.

“Jaime, I’m sorry it was terrible but I’m sure he was just being cranky because he didn’t really understand.”

Jaime held her fast and sucked on her firm shoulder. “Tywin Lannister needs no defending, wench.”

“I’m not defending him, you idiot,” she said, drawing away but her eyes twinkling. “But he’s an old man. He can be as cranky as he wants. I imagine you were not an easy child.”

“I was a fucking angel!” Jaime protested.

“Really.”

“Well, not when I’m between your legs.”

_“Jaime!”_

“Wench, you don’t want to be fucked by an angel. You’ll get bored.”

Brienen shook her head and muttered, “idiot” once again before Jaime put an arm around her waist and led her down the hall. They turned around the corner and saw Tyrion, Tywin and Bronn seated on the bench. They rose upon seeing them.

“Are you well, Brienne?” Tyrion asked her kindly.

She held up her hand. “I’ve been better. I just had painkillers.”

“I love it,” Tyrion told her with a grin.

“Brienne, you know Bronn,” Jaime reminded her. Bronn nodded, giving her an appreciative glance that had Jaime frowning at him. Bronn shrugged with exaggerated innocence. Clearing his throat, Jaime then said, “And this is my father, Tywin Lannister. Father, this is my girlfriend, Brienne Tarth. She’s also my manager.”

Brienne stood ramrod-straight suddenly and Tywin raised his chin. They sized each other up like cowboys of old just before a gunfight. Jaime felt both protective and thrilled. If Tywin dared criticize his wench, he would break his nose. Jaime was close to salivating, waiting for the provocation.

Tywin’s emerald eyes, sharp shards of glass, stared at Brienne’s tall impressive form, glancing at her breasts, her boyish waist still wrapped in Jaime’s arm, then her hips. There, his stare lingered. The slit of her skirt was high but it was not permission to be stared at. Just as Jaime was about to call out on his father, Tywin straightened his head and looked at him in the eye, an elegant brow raised.

“Her hips are wide and ideal,” he declared. “She will give you strong children. She seems to have a head on her shoulders too, to get you to do those things you label as ‘work.’” He smiled, a rare warm smile that creeped the hell out of Jaime, Tyrion and Bronn. 

“You have work to do,” he told Jaime. Once again, he nodded at Brienne’s hips. “Lots of work to do. She’s excellent stock.”

And with an exit only Tywin Lannister could do, he turned and left.

The four stared after him, not knowing what to make of it. Brienne was the first to recover.

“Tell me it’s the drugs or else your father just implied that I’m to be a baby-making machine. Did he?” She demanded. 

Tyrion let out a long sigh. “Welcome to our world, Brienne.”

Bronn crossed his arms. “Well, what do you know. Finally. One advantage of not being a fucking Lannister.”


	5. Blow-Up

Jaime’s schedule was free beginning Friday but Monday, they were back on the grind. The sales of Winterfest All Around was picking up, closing in on the Wolfboyz that industry insiders predicted that it will hit number one at a huge margin. 

A couple of days have passed since the incident at the after-party but the news had yet to die down. TLZ, The League Zone, a celebrity gossip show, was the first to break the news. Mainstream media picked it up hours later and soon after, Jaime and Brienne, especially, was inundated with calls and messages. The only call she took was from Catelyn Stark, who apologized for the behavior of Robb and Bran. She was Jaime’s lawyer during his Kingsguard days but he had gradually turned over his affairs to his brother when he hid in the Quiet Isle. Brienne appreciated the gesture although Jaime snorted at it.

“Robb and Bran are old enough to make their own apologies,” he pointed out. “Fucking pathetic hiding behind their mother, if you ask me.”

At first, there was a rumor that Wolfboyz intended to press charges against Rhaegar and Brienne. Brienne was ready to fire off a statement denouncing their version of events when a helpful partygoer, whose identity was still unknown, shared at a video at Westgram that showed Ramsay Bolton starting the fight. He didn’t initiate the physical assault but he certainly provoked it. Ramsay, Robb, Theon and Bran’s nasty, offensive words, also recorded on the video, were still making the rounds. Catelyn and the management of Wolfboyz were desperate to shut it down but it was being shared and forwarded too fast, too often. There was no way to stop it. The gossip rags played it up further with photos of Brienne scowling and looking ugly and Ramsay smug, with the headlines “Beast vs. Beast,” “A Woman Against Wolves,” “The Giant Blond and the Crying Wolf,” and the most ridiculous of all, “She Ain’t Got No Hood But She Sure Has That Fist!”

Tyrion offered to issue a statement on Brienne’s behalf but she refused. To her, it was just more news and there were other things that needed attention. Not to mention that in spite of her injury, she still had a lot of work to do. A good consequence of the incident was that print and online media wanted a piece of Jaime before he gave them his all. Brienne was amused when Westeros Teen emailed five questions regarding Jaime’s perfect girl.

“You’ve tapped into a new market,” she teased him. “The screaming teenaged girls.”

“I must be old because all I can think is how that’s fucking inappropriate,” Jaime retorted.

They had Friday night to themselves, then tomorrow’s dinner with Rhaegar then the dreaded Sunday dinner with Tywin. Brienne had a frosty regard for Jaime’s father since the man judged her hips “ideal.” 

Right now, her hips were rocking against Jaime’s, their pace languid yet still touched with desperation. Their bodies gleamed with the sweat from their efforts, and they slid each other so slickly that each had a hand digging into the sheets, the mattress. Brienne’s injured hand was propped by her right ear—the ear that Jaime alternated between nibbling and sucking as he fucked her. He felt bigger than usual, a warm, pulsing very hard pillar of flesh testing the tight limits of her pussy. She moaned and she felt him get harder while pumping inside her. Gods. He turned her face so he could plant a deep, open-mouthed kiss on her, his hand cupping her breast and pinching her nipple.

Stiffening, she hissed, “Careful.”

Without breaking the pace, he murmured, “Sorry. Yeah, you feel rounder,” he squeezed her left breast gently and kissed her on the mouth again. She licked his tongue.

“Take me,” she begged. “Jaime, I need to come.”

He smiled. “I know.”

She tightened her legs around him and he gasped. “Fuck. Yes.”

Picking up the pace, he flattened her on the mattress and fucked her, lunging hard and deep. She pushed a hand between them, finding the stiff nub of her clitoris and pinching it. “Jaime,” she whispered, hips lurching up sharply. He bore down hard on her, fucking her still through the ripples of her orgasm before he breathed her name and came.

“I can see,” she panted a few seconds later, when they were lying flat on the bed catching their breath, “why you missed me.”

“I’ll be glad to show you again,” he said, making her laugh.

She kissed him on the cheek and sat up. Jaime put a hand on her thigh “Where the fuck are you going, wench? I’m not done with you yet.”

“I’m starving,” she said, getting up and sliding on a robe. “I need a sandwich.”

“At ten in the evening?”

She blushed and shrugged. “I’ve been eating weird, if you noticed.”

“I have.” Jaime said, sitting up so he was leaning on the headboard. He didn’t bother pulling the blankets on him despite the cold weather. “I told you to have that bug checked.”

“I was only throwing up a few days ago and then again this morning. Maybe it’s the painkillers. I’ll talk to that doctor into prescribing me something later,” she said, rubbing her tummy. “I want roast beef sandwiches. Let’s go.”

Jaime smiled. “I would rather you serve me in bed. So what if you're a hand short?”

“You may be fine with ants in your bed, Lannister, but in my bailiwick, we eat in the kitchen. Up,” she ordered, tying the robe closed awkwardly. “I’ll see you there. Feed me”

Brienne hurried to the kitchen. She really was starving. Her appetite had been off and she blamed it on exhaustion from the last few days of work. The painkillers were a bitch too because it made her appetite loopy. When she wasn’t throwing up before breakfast, she was throwing up what little lunch she managed to wolf down. 

Jaime joined her in the kitchen and together they assembled the roast beef sandwiches. He removed the crusts from the bread and sliced the tomatoes. Brienne warmed the beef in the microwave, got the horseradish sauce. 

“So this dinner with your Father,” she told him as they sat at the table eating the sandwiches a few minutes later. “How fucked am I going to be there?”

Jaime’s even teeth tore off a good chunk from the sandwich. “If he doesn’t press us to name the first boy after him, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad. So between that and, I don’t know, being grilled about my intentions towards you—“

“Would mean you’re in good shape.” Jaime kissed the frown line between her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, wench.”

“Ideal hips, indeed,” she muttered, taking a bite. 

Jaime shrugged and said, “I wish I can explain Tywin Lannister but what you see is what you get.”

Brienne nodded and continued working her way through the sandwich. The combination of soft bread, tender beef slices and horseradish was heaven on the tongue and her stomach was grateful. She picked up her second sandwich, eager to bite when a familiar, dreaded, flip and turn happened in her stomach. Eyes wide, she pushed her chair back as she leaped to her feet, the hand on her mouth preventing her from answering Jaime’s shocked and concerned question as she ran to the bathroom and threw the toilet seat open.

Soured horseradish and chunky, wet bits of beet and bread exploded out of her mouth, filling the toilet. On and on it went until her stomach was empty and she felt dizzy once again, the natural follow-up to the vomiting she had been experiencing these last few days. Still heaving, she forced herself to her feet to get to the sink. She gargled with mouthwash though her mouth still tasted sour and yucky. Making a face, she opened the door and found Jaime standing outside. He was dressed in his sweater and jeans.

“We need to have that checked, wench.”

“It’s the painkillers,” she insisted, brushing past him. She collapsed on the couch with a sigh. 

“You said you felt sick a few days ago. Remember? When we were still fighting.” 

“So? That was exhaustion.”

“Exhaustion, the painkillers. I feel like the answer is right in front of us but we each refuse to say it or we’re waiting for one of us to say it.” Jaime growled, dropping beside her.

“What are you talking about?” Brienne stared at him. “You don’t think I’m pregnant, do you?”

Sure they were fucking. They were doing a lot of fucking. They only missed protection in the beginning but never again. They had been careful. Neither had to say that a baby would be. . .ill-advised right now. There was Jaime’s career to get back on the ground. She only had to look at Sansa and Sandor to know that a baby would be time away from things. Time they could no longer give up when they had done so much.

“You haven’t been wearing your piercings because your nipples are sensitive.”

“They are when as my period approaches,” she insisted. 

“Look, I know next to nothing about women’s cycles and all but I know your body pretty well, wench.” Jaime suddenly cupped her breasts through the robe and squeezed. Brienne yelped and hit him on the arm. 

“What the hell?”

“I have seen your tits before your period and during, wench. They don’t look nor feel like that”

On any other day, she would think him joking but he looked grim. Brienne stared back at him again before she went back to the bathroom and loosened the robe. She stood in front of the mirror just as Jaime joined her.

She had always been flat with prominent nipples. This time, there was a definite curve on the underside of her tits. Slight but unmistakable. Her nipples were red too and felt very tender. 

Okay, so she had some boobs and tenderness. She was throwing up. It was evidence but not enough. Meeting Jaime’s gaze through the mirror, she said tonelessly, “Get my phone, please.”

He was back shortly, holding it out to her. Brienne had pulled the robe back on then. She scrolled for the app that predicted her period, found it then pressed it. She checked for her previous dates before she went to the current one.

There it was. Her period predictor. Biting her lip, she stared at Jaime, her eyes suddenly very shiny.

 

They had never talked about children. By the Seven, they have been together for only two months and three weeks. Maybe other couples tackled the subject right away but Jaime and Brienne had been more intent on tackling each other to bed or any flat surface to think of something like this.

Not a word passed between them after she showed him the period app and explained haltingly how it did, and how she was always on the dot. She never missed a period—she was so freaking regular that even the death of her father didn’t stop it temporarily. She kept insisting that, she never missed. Jaime knew shock and denial well enough to know how to deal with it when witnessing it. He had to coax her away from the bathroom and then gently tell her that they could go to the store for a test or schedule an emergency appointment with the doctor. Entirely up to her. He’ll go with whatever she wanted.

He hadn’t counted on Brienne reddening and shouting “And who told you those are my only choices?”

This time, he was so shocked he couldn’t say a single word.

If the night was hard, the morning after even more. Brienne refused to look at him, wouldn’t speak to him unless she had to. Jaime couldn’t understand. Right now she was almost a week late. She could be pregnant. It was annoying that she was behaving like a fucking child when nothing was definite yet. Plus, it felt like she blamed him. 

Jaime could understand that this time was not ideal for a child. They loved each other but it was too soon. They were probably the biggest idiots around to be saying this when a child wouldn’t a problem at all—they were both rich, they were mature, healthy, responsible. Yes, a baby now would be too soon but it wasn’t the problem that Brienne was making it out to be. Jaime was convinced he was never going to have the career he had before and was okay with that. Good things never lasted long. Those that stuck around were the ones worth keeping.That was Brienne. And if real, the baby.

A baby. He couldn’t believe it. Jaime never fancied about becoming a father. For a good part of his life, his focus was Kingsguard—lived and breathed it, slept with it, defined himself with it. He liked children but didn’t think he would have his own, nor did he do anything to make this possible. His life was full and satisfactory. He had more than he asked for.

But the idea of a child, his, with Brienne, was affecting him in ways unlike anything before. He was both terrified and excited, wistful and unsure, angry and happy. If Brienne felt anything like this, he wanted to know because gods, they were in this together, baby or not. His wench was being completely unreasonable shutting down as she was doing.

He went to her study sometime in the afternoon. “I’m going to the store,” he told her as she looked up from her laptop. “I’d like you to come with me.”

She shook her head. “I’m busy.”

He sighed and closed the door behind him. “Wench.”

She shook her head and resolutely turned her attention back to the computer.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” He snapped, fed up with her behavior. “We’re not even sure if you’re pregnant.”

“Really? Because what I got from you yesterday is you were sure,” she spat. 

“Don’t be angry at me for what I observed. Do you hate me for knowing your body better than you do? What are you really angry about, Brienne? Let’s have it. Right here. Now.”

“Gods! It’s always on your terms, isn’t it?”

“Because you skulk off and pout like a fucking child!”

“Forgive me for wanting to take things in first. I’m not like you who likes to get things over and done with and move on. I like to think. And reflect. Do you have any idea what’s going through my head right now?”

“No because you won’t talk to me.”

Brienne flushed and closed the laptop. “Fine. I’ll tell you. I don’t want this child.”

Jaime grunted, “We don't even know if there's a child!" 

“I’m telling you now so that you know if I am pregnant. I don’t want this child. Not now. There is so much to do and accomplish. Your career—“

“Fuck my career. Do you mean to tell me you wish to get rid of the baby for my fucking career? Are you nuts?”

“No! I told you I don’t want it but it doesn’t mean I want it gone!”

Jaime went to her desk and planted his hands on it. He loomed over her. “Alright. Then give me the breakdown, wench. Explain to me. Talk to me. You’re disliking a lot over a thing we’re not even sure is real yet. If you had let me go to the store last night to get the test we’d have some certainty. We won’t be throttling each other like this.”

“I’m scared, alright? I never wanted to be a mother.”

“Well,” he sank on the chair with a sigh. “We’re on the same page, then.”

“I don’t. . .” Brienne began but her chin wobbled. “I don’t know how to be a mother, Jaime. I never had one. I didn’t even have a nanny so that I would have an idea how to care for another human being. My father was hardly around. . .and then your father. . .I--I can't. Jaime, I just can't.”

Jaime hung his head. _Fuck Tywin Lannister._

“Managing you is all I know. I’m probably not pregnant, that’s true. But what if I am someday? Because I don’t think my mind will change, Jaime. I don’t want children. You say you think the same but how sure are you? Because . .because if you change your mind and. . .I don’t. . .then. . .then we can’t be together. I won’t stop you from getting what you want. It’s the right thing to do.” She said this to herself more than him. “You deserve to be a father, if that’s what you want someday.”

Despite the strength in her words, her eyes betrayed fear and pain. 

“As your manager I’ll do everything to help you regain your career. But as your girlfriend. . .I don’t. . .I’m just realizing the limits of that role and . . .and. . .” Her voice trailed off and her shoulders slumped.

Jaime looked at her. “What is it? We’re talking. Don’t be afraid, wench.”

“Jaime, I will never get in the way of what you want but if someday. . .your wants regarding a child diverges from mine. . .I don’t know if I have it in me to love you enough to let you go. But I do love you. That I know. I know it’s so selfish that even when I know it’s wrong, that I believe you should get what you want, I won’t be letting go.” She was shaking. “I can’t . .Jaime, I can’t let you go. Even when it’s wrong. I don’t see my decision regarding children changing. But. . .I can’t let you go, Jaime.”

Despite her anguish, she looked at him with challenge in her eyes. _Now you know,_ they said. 

Jaime sat down again, stunned at the way things had turned out, at her admission. Brienne curled into herself, regret all over her body as she feared his reaction. 

Jaime never thought about children. But a child with Brienne, and no other woman, that he could get on board with. Simply because it was half of Brienne. 

But now she was telling him that if he wanted children and she still hadn’t changed her mind, that though she knew it was unfair to keep him, she would still refuse to let him go. It was selfish. It was cruel. 

“Jaime?” Her voice was small, tentative. “Say something, please. Tell me you hate me. I won’t hate you for it. I’ll understand. If you decide to end what we have now. . .I beg you not to. But I can still try to not stop you from leaving when I only love you as much I do at this moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TLZ is my dumb take on TMZ.


	6. A Serving of Honesty

Sansa and Sandor were the perfect contrast to each other. She was delicate, beautiful and cheerful and he was rough, harshly-featured and gruff. But they wore identical expressions of disbelief as they stared at Brienne, mouths hanging open. She squirmed on the chair she was sitting on and hid her reddening face in her hands

“You. Actually. Said. That.” Sandor spoke slowly, as if mastering every word.

Sansa turned to him. “I need more lemon cakes to get me through this.”

Brienne kept her hands on her face as she listened to Sandor shuffling then getting up, the couch sighing in relief as it strained under his massive weight. 

“Brienne. Get your hands away from your face and look at me. Look at me.” Sansa said the last sentence sternly and she looked at her best friend warily, ready to hear it. 

“It was a terrible thing to say, wasn’t it?” Her eyes fell on her swollen belly. “And fucking insensitive. I would understand if you don’t want me to be the godmother anymore.”

“Give me a second to take this all in, alright? I had no idea—you never said anything about Jaime. The last time we spoke you were sure he wasn’t into you and now you’re in my living room telling me that not only have you been fucking him, you love him too and you’re probably pregnant.” 

Brienne winced. “You forget the part where I said that I don’t want children and I still expect him to stay with me even if he wants the opposite.”

“That is one statement that should never be on a t-shirt.”

Brienne removed her legs from the arm of the chair they were draped on, setting her feet back on the floor. She buried her face in her hands again. “Fuck. I’m so fucking messed up.”

“You are.” Sandor returned with a tray of lemon cakes and a fresh pot of tea. “But it doesn’t mean you’re a terrible person.”

“You don’t have to say nice things to me, Sandor. I won’t take a ten percent cut anymore,” Brienne said glumly as she reached for the pastry and took a small bite. 

“You’re not a terrible person for not wanting children. You are selfish for still expecting Jaime to stick around if he wants children and you don’t,” Sansa said, putting a dollop of cream on her lemon cake before taking a bite. “You have the right.”

“But?” Sandor and Brienne asked.

Sansa suddenly blushed. “I forget my point. Pregnancy brain.”

Sandor poured them tea before he picked up one of the delicate cups in his hand to take a sip. Bone china edged with gold detailing and pink and green curlicues of flowers and leaves, it looked breakable in his massive hand with the hairy knuckles. Yet he sipped his tea with the perfect propriety expected of one when having it with the Queen. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he told Brienne. “Why don’t you just take the fucking test? I’m not saying you’ll change your mind but maybe. . .you won’t be as militant. I never thought about children myself until she came along,” he said, gesturing at Sansa with his thumb. 

Sansa rolled her eyes at him. "Until I came along? Sandor, you told me, before even asking me on a date, that you want to put a baby in me. Verbatim, it went 'I want to fuck you until my baby is in you.'"

Brienne made a face while Sandor smiled like a lovesick idiot. "What? It worked." 

“You’re taking time off to raise the child,” Brienne said, finishing her cake and helping herself to another. “I mean, you’re okay with being derailed like that?”

“I don’t see it as being derailed. I can hire extra nannies and whatever kind of help. I want to be with Sansa and the baby. Brienne, having a baby these days should not stop you from doing things Especially when you have Jaime with you.”

“Yeah but we don’t know if at this very moment he’s emptying his closet or he’s putting my things in the trash.” It made her sick to the stomach, the idea that Jaime would leave her. “Gods, I seriously don’t know what to do. And we have a dinner with Rhaegar tonight, you know? Jaime’s at the store getting things while I’m here being a fucking pest.” She glared at her right hand. “And useless.”

“That’s what confuses me,” Sansa declared. “You punch some guy for insulting Jaime, you break your hand, and you don’t want children with him. You love him. Maybe it doesn’t make sense but you see what I’m trying to get at here?”

Brienne sighed. “I just can’t imagine being a mother. I never had anyone in my life that could serve as a model. Dad was there but he basically left me on my own. It was horrible but I didn’t know until years later. And who’s to say that Jaime won’t resent me for trapping him?”

Sandor rolled his eyes. “Again, we don’t even know if you’re pregnant yet. I’ll go to the store now and get you a test.”

“No!” Brienne exclaimed.

“Brienne, I really think you should. You’re freaking out over something you don’t even know is true yet.” Sansa told her gently.  
“Yeah, but what if I am? Then it’s real.”

“What if it’s not?”

That would be a gift, right? To be not pregnant. Yet –

“It’s also real,” she whispered. “I’m so confused. But what I know is I’m scared. A baby changes things. Even no baby, because of what I said. I don’t even know if Jaime will sleep over tonight. If he will still have me tomorrow. I’m confused and scared. I would lose him and it’s my fault.” _Just when I found him._

This time she burst into tears.

 

Sandor drove Brienne home because he didn’t trust her behind the wheel. On their way, he made it a point to hit the drugstore and scooped up every pregnancy test there was. Brienne stared helplessly as the sale was wrapped up and he handed her the package. “Do it when you’re ready,” he said as he resumed driving. “For your own peace of mind. Then call us or have us come over. No matter the hour, Tarth, you hear me?”

Brienne’s eyes and the rest of her face were still red from crying on their couch. Sandor pulled up in her driveway, his eyes big with concern. She told him she would be alright and will make arrangements to get her car tomorrow. He drove off and she waved after him, clutching the package of tests to her chest.

Jaime’s car wasn’t in yet so he was still out. There was still an hour and a half left before Rhaegar arrived. Brienne put the tests in the bathroom in her bedroom then made herself go to the kitchen to putter around. Who knew that the anxiety of having those tests in the house was similar to having a gun? It’s real, she told Sansa and Sandor. Just because I don’t want it doesn’t mean I want it gone, she’d told Jaime. 

She was being ridiculous, was she? She had more than enough money in the bank, owned a house that was fully paid for, had job success yet she was freaked out about having a child. She didn’t know if her reasons stacked up enough to make sense but they were her feelings, her issues. They were valid. But the bit about asking Jaime to stick around despite feeling differently toward children someday had been a new low for her. 

She pulled out the fancy goblets from the cabinet, the nice plates and utensils. Washing them one-handed was a little challenging but she managed. In these tasks, she forgot the tests waiting for her in the bathroom.

She cleaned a little around the house, putting the pillows on the couch in order, stashing her tablet and Jaime’s laptop in her study, picking up clothes discarded from their fucking from nights that seemed a long time ago from the floor and putting them in the hamper. The hamper which was in the bathroom. 

Brienne gulped, thinking of the package she had left by the sink. 

_I should know. They’re right. If I know if it’s real or not. . .then I know._

She had enough pee for two subsequent tests then went to the kitchen to drink half a gallon of juice so she could pee on two more. She refused to look at the first two tests, hiding them behind the tissue box. Idiotic, that’s what she was but she needed to take this one step at a time. Her heart was racing and her head was beginning to hurt from the worry and anxiety. She chucked the other tests in the trash, hiding them under a pile of tissues. 

As she finished her subterfuge, she heard Jaime’s car pulling up. Panicking, she raced out of the bathroom to meet him at the door. Brienne opened it just as he was about to unlock it, momentarily enjoying his startled look before his eyes darkened, reminding her of what was happening to them. Blushing, she lowered her head and stepped aside, muttering about helping him with the bags.

Either he didn’t hear her or ignored her because he proceeded to the kitchen still holding them. Brienne tiptoed after him, watching as he put them on the counter before he pulled out a giant pot and began to fill it with water. The movement in the bag caught her eye. Frowning, she asked, “W-What did you get?”

“Lobsters. I thought we could have lobsters, and also cheesecake. The salad I can make,” he said, firing up the stove and putting the full pan on it. He turned around and saw her standing at the end of the counter, staring still at the movement in the bags. She felt his eyes rake her.

“You tell me you don’t want a child and you stop kissing me?”

Brienne raised her eyes to meet his stare. “How can you still want to kiss me after knowing how selfish I am?”

Jaime leaned against the sink. “I guess I love you more than you love me at this very moment.”

Brienne let out a shaky breath and went to him, throwing herself in his arms. Jaime grunted, holding her so fiercely. She clung as much as her trembling body could manager and she was, terribly so. Her breath was sharp, pitched bursts. She kissed him behind the ear, whispering how much she loved him. He kissed her down the neck, her shoulder, whispering the same.

She protested when he suddenly moved away, then realized it was only to turn off the oven. “But—“ she glanced at the lobsters still moving in the bag and he shook his head as he bent and picked her up by her legs. Brienne’s grip on his shoulders was bruising. He loved her still. He loved her in spite of everything.

“Rhaegar—“ she managed to say as he put her on the bed and started undressing her

“You don’t want my children. I can live with that,” Jaime said, throwing away her boots then yanking off her socks. “But never say another man’s name in our bed, wench.” His eyes glittered as he wrenched off her jeans, a pleased sound emitting from his lips upon finding her pussy bare. Their eyes met, blue and green fire before he spread her legs and buried his tongue in the swelling, moistening heat. 

He was merciless and relentless. He gripped her hips so she couldn’t escape, and licked and sucked her with a dark hunger that undid her—she was never going to be put together again. She was pink and getting pinker all over hearing his hungry, decadent slurps, his wet kisses. 

Several times her vision dimmed and she was dragged back to consciousness and color by the sweeps and thrusts of his tongue, the hard thrust of his fingers. Her t-shirt clung to her chest slickening with sweat, the press of cloth outlining the red jut of her nipples eager to stab through. Helplessly, she could only watch and moan as Jaime undid her over and over again, taking her flavor deep in his mouth, his throat. Her body was a wreck spread legs and wet thighs, clit swollen and hyper-sensitive, by the time he rose on his knees. His lips were slick with her honey but his eyes told her he wasn’t done yet. _Will never be done._

He got rid of her top but had yet to loosen a single button from his own clothes. Again he wrought devastation to her body, planting his mouth right on hers to share the taste of her pussy, his hands cupping her swollen tits, his cold belt buckle pressing against her clit, making her scream. He shoved his tongue in her mouth, reducing her to weak whimpers of both caution and want as he pinched and plucked at her nipples. He was hurting her but it was wonderful. Maybe she deserved to be hurt, for asking so much of him and never giving anything in return. Her right hand, still bandaged, bumped against his cheek. As she began to murmur an apology, he kissed it, the tenderness startling her. 

“I love you,” she whispered brokenly as his lips tracked down her wrist, her arm until they hovered over hers again, his breath warm. “You deserve more—“

He glared at her. “Don’t you finish that stupid thought, wench.”

Then his mouth was back on hers, destroying her further. 

She pushed and pulled at his clothes until his chest was bare, the hard slap of muscle of warm skin a smooth caress. She sobbed as he sucked on her throat, leaving a purple necklace of kisses there before continuing down to her breasts. They felt heavy and ached so badly but she groaned at the relief his hungry kisses offered, lips sucking hard on her nipples. She rubbed her pussy against his denim-covered thigh, leaving a wet splotch there as his kisses grew hungrier, more needy. He drew her nipple deep in his mouth, drawing a sharp cry from her but she didn’t tell him to stop. It hurt but it was wonderful. She turned, angling her body so that the hard ridge of his cock under his jeans hit just the spot. There. Oh. Right there. Jaime gasped and tried to push away but he too was helpless from the determined thrust of her hips against him. He flattened himself completely over her, her legs spreading like wings and began to thrust, his belt buckle cold against her warm stomach, the crotch of his jeans rough, settling directly on her clit. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. _The friction was incredible._

“Jaime.” She knew nothing else like this, when like this. “Jaime. Jaime.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he gasped, taking her lips briefly, sucking the plump flesh. “Never. I love you. Too much.”

Her eyes were half-closed, her body still shuddering from the aftermath of another orgasm when Jaime pulled away. Shivering from the loss of his body's warmth, she watched him get rid of his boots, his socks, pants. His cock bobbed free, long and straight, at half-mast yet rising. _At last._ She struggled to prop herself up on her elbows but could only manage halfway. She brushed a damp lock of her hair from her forehead as Jaime went to her, golden, beautiful, hers. Undeservedly hers. He hooked his elbows under her knees and they smiled blearily at each other, both intoxicated from the feel of the other and how else they were going to be together. The many, many ways they were going to be together. 

It didn’t take long to get him hard again. She knew his body too, better than she knew her own. Knew how to circle her fingers around him, how to stroke him just so, a tricky balance of rough and tender. Two hands did the job but one hand and her mouth yielded results neither had anticipated. Jaime yanked her up to his chest, his lips eager. She kissed him, tongue gliding against his before they reached the mutual decision to suck each other’s face off. It was a battle. Being on top was not doing her hand favors and Jaime, without being told, turned so she was under him now. 

“You’re free to not want anything else,” he sounded as if he were pleading. “Just don’t stop wanting me, Brienne. Always need me. I refuse to be without you.”

His cock was inside her as soon as he finished talking. She was so wet the sheets were stained, sticky, and her thighs, and his own still slick from their juices. She sobbed against his neck as his cock plunged in and out of her, the sound of their joining wet and leaving her scandalized. Wet, lewd squeaks. But she participated, actively, looking in his eyes as she joined him in this old dance that was theirs and only theirs. She held him by the face with her left hand, tears falling from her eyes as he kissed her palm, sobbing against his mouth when he kissed her. He pulled back, his gaze concerned at her tears and she shook her head, just whispering, “Don’t stop,” and he obliged, his kisses at first hesitant before they devoured her in that familiar way that made her heart tight.

They fucked one more time before it was absolutely time to get everything ready for the arrival of their guest. There was no time for a shower so Jaime tried to cover the scent of fucking by putting on cologne. Brienne didn’t wear scents so she only had lotion—until, with a blush, she realized it was unscented. Seeing this, Jaime laughed and put his arms around her from behind.

“Why cover up that I’ve been fucking you, hmm?” He licked her neck. “You should always smell like me.”

“That’s disgusting,” she muttered but made no move to get away from him. Instead, she blushed and invited his lips to kiss her again. 

She was wearing only panties while Jaime had already put on a shirt, unbuttoned, and pants. Through the mirror, she watched him watching her as he squeezed her breast—yes, the roundness was evident, in this light—while the other hand settled on her pussy. He only had to rub her a few times, pulling at her nipple gently, for a dark stain to spread across the crotch of her underwear. She gasped as he pulled it down to her thighs and cupped her. 

He buried his lips on her shoulder. “You’re soaked.”

She nodded, embarrassed at her body’s quick response. Her pussy felt aching and swollen, her tits even more. Jaime cupped the slight mounds and continued to look at her through the mirror. 

“I will be with you in whatever decision you make, Brienne. Whatever decision.”

She nodded, understanding what he meant.

That’s why she told him. “I took a test.”

She turned around to look at him with her own eyes, searching his face for a twitch, anything that signified betrayal, something. He swallowed.

“And? What—What’s the result?”

“I can’t—I haven’t looked.” She felt ridiculous naked like this, talking about this with him so she pulled up her panties, making a face as the damp crotch of her underwear clung to her pussy. 

“I’m afraid, Jaime.” She whispered. “What if—what if—“

“And if it’s not?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m scared and confused. It’s too soon.”

“Says who?” Jaime asked. “There are people who see each other from across the room and are married in a snap, and they stay married for the next seventy years. Just as there are people who have been together for years, get married at last, only to divorce two years later or less.”

“There is so much going on with us. A baby is time we will have to take away from that.”

“Does it bother you so much?”

She remembered the talk she had with Sansa and Sandor. I don’t see it as being derailed, Sandor had said. 

“I’m scared that you’ll think I trapped you.” There, she was finally putting to words one of the many fears she refused to acknowledge. “I’m scared that if I’m pregnant and have all these expectations of us we’ll end up frustrated and disappointed. I’m also scared that because of this pregnancy, if it’s real, the trajectory we’re on with your career will be put on hold. I’m scared you’ll resent me. I’m terrified of losing you. I know zilch about children, raising one. Nothing.”

“And you think I do? Tywin is no Father of the Year, wench. And I don’t remember my mother all that well to remember how it’s supposed to be done.” Jaime threaded his fingers through her hand. “I kind of understand why you’re afraid. I’m scared of the same things too but at the same time. . .” Then something. . .closet to magical happened. Brienne dared hope. Jaime looked at her with a hopefulness that was beautiful and reached right into her heart and turned it to mush. “It’s a baby with you. With you, Brienne. I don’t know if I want children myself. I gave you that impression, I guess. But if it happens someday, it’s only with you that I’ll want them.”

Brienne rested her forehead against his, staring at their entwined hands. “Oh, Jaime.”

“Only with you.” He spoke with every fiber of his being. “No one else, Brienne.”

She embraced him, ignoring the discomfort of her breasts flattened against him so, of the buttons of his shirt digging and dragging at her sore nipples. Jaime, always so steadfast, infuriating but always there. Yelling at her, pushing at her, refusing to give up on them. Fighting for her, for them. “I love you so much, Jaime.” 

Jaime kissed her on the shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Rhaegar had no idea of the tension that had gripped Jaime and Brienne. They welcomed him warmly, Brienne kissing him on the cheek, Jaime hugging him tightly. Rhaegar felt guilty at how he had behaved towards Brienne, but he was more wistful for what would never be. With the way Brienne had her eyes on Jaime all night, the way he couldn’t stop touching her, nothing was going to come between them. And Jaime was his best friend. Rhaegar would never betray him like that.

It was surprising, this relationship between them, then also not. Jaime and Brienne had always been close, alternating between biting each other’s head off and exchanging fond and teasing glances, smiles during the days of Kingsguard. Brienne didn’t look tensed and scowled less. Jaime looked happy and Rhaegar would bet he actually was. It was a little sickening how they would kiss every time one got up to get something, as if they worried about never kissing each other again. But they were in love. If he were in Jaime’s shoes, he would act exactly the same way, or be worse.

Brienne was ugly, her rare sapphire eyes her only beauty. She was taller than him and gawky, awkward and a little judgmental. But she was genuine, with not one insincere cell in her body. She radiated with it and that’s what pulled the others in, this light within her. Then her legs, of course. If she were his, Rhaegar wouldn’t let her wear anything that showed off those sexy, endless legs. And that white top, scooped-neck, showing her freckles, her nipples straining eagerly against the fabric. It was enough to drive the sanest man insane. What was Jaime thinking? 

But, she was not his.

So he concentrated enjoying a delicious meal of lobster, Caesar salad and tart, creamy cherry cheesecake with two of his closest friends. He was a little jealous of Jaime, but man, did he miss his best friend. He missed their collaboration, or simply just talking.

They had more cheesecake in the living room and coffee. Jaime got his guitar and Rhaegar went to his car to retrieve his. Soon, they were banging out old Kingsguard hits or just making random riffs with their guitars, to Brienne’s amusement. They were just getting started and Brienne was familiar with what lay in wait.

“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me,” she announced. “It’s been a long day. You continue with the show. I’m off to bed.”

“Oh, is it late already?” Rhaegar asked, glancing at his watch. It was only nine-thirty. 

“No. And don’t even think of leaving. I’m tired, that’s all,” Brienne assured him. She kissed him on the cheek and Rhaegar caught a whiff of Jaime’s cologne on her, as well as the unmistakable musk of sex. She drew back and looked at him. “We’d love to have you again. He’s missed you.”

Rhaegar was smiling as she went to Jaime. She kissed him on the lips and Jaime whispered something in her ear. Brienne’s cheeks were the color of ripe apples as she pulled away from him, shaking her head. Then she bade them good night and went to the bedroom.

“She’s good for you,” Rhaegar told Jaime.

“She’s the best part about being me,” Jaime said, strumming the guitar absently yet still playing a catchy melody. “I don’t know how it is to be without her anymore.”

“So things are good?”

Jaime smirked. “We work to keep it so.”

Rhaegar listened to the first few bars of the melody he was still absently playing and started following it, easily switching to his role as rhythm guitarist. They played to the very end, coming to a smashing finish for a piece composed out of the blue. They chuckled and shook hands.

“I missed working with you,” Jaime said.

“Me too,” Rhaegar said.

“But you’re doing well, right? Brienne says you’ll still be in The Band next season.”

“What’s left for a has-been rock star to do but sell his black soul to pop?”

“Come on now. At least you’re only a has-been. You’re not a former alcoholic and drug addict.”

“Well, you’re bouncing back pretty good. In the most unexpected way but isn’t that the Jaime Lannister way?”

Jaime chuckled. “My promise to peform the song naked on TV, you mean?”

“Glad to know there’s still a bit of the reckless idiot in you, Lannister.” Rhaegar joked. Then turning serious, he said, “Jaime, I really miss working with you. I’m sorry Kingsguard is no more but it’s our pact. It’s either all the five of us or never again. If not for Loras, the gods only know where he is. . .I hate that I contributed to what’s happened to you.”

“You mean what, finally ending up with the woman I love, elderly women and teenaged girls and gay boys keeping #kingslayer trending?” Jaime pointed out. He shook his head. “Or do you mean the drugs part, where I basically made an ass of myself?”  
“I could have been more understanding about Cersei.”

“Everyone was. Including Brienne. Look what happened.” Jaime shot him a quick smile. “Don’t blame yourself for anything, Rhaegar. If anything, it just sped things up with Brienne. Maybe sometimes it’s too fast.” And an odd smile lit up his face before it receded. “But we’ve lost so much time.” He glanced back at the hallways where Brienne disappeared. “I can’t wait to be with her the way I thought would only be dreaming about, you know?”

Rhaegar watched him position his fingers on the strings again, ready to play. 

“Well, get there as fast you can.”

Jaime grinned. “Come. Let’s play ‘The Lady Is A Wench.’ One, two, a-one, two three. . .”


	7. A Wench Among Lions

Brienne was still a panting, flushed mess on the bed when the doorbell rang. She groaned, muttering that it was Bronn come to pick them up. She slanted Jaime an annoyed glance as he energetically leaped to his feet, his half-erect cock bobbing. An arrogant, very male smile was aimed at her as he grabbed a robe on his way out. The implication of this didn’t hit her until a few moments too late—by then Jaime had welcomed Bronn at the door, looking smug and very satisfied. Brienne managed to crawl to the door to overhear them talk.

“I suppose I’m in for a long wait, aren’t I?” Bronn grumbled.

“We’ll try to not have you wait that long,” Jaime drawled, sounding amused. “I spend my Sundays fucking my girlfriend and now we have to stop because of some fucking dinner.”

“You should invite your Father sometime,” Bronn retorted. “He’d like to see proof that you’re working very hard.”

Brienne stiffened. There was a pause before Jaime said, “If Tywin wants another Lannister he can go bribe some scientists into cloning himself.”

More ribbing followed from Bronn. Brienne moved away from the door, face burning then turned to head for the bathroom. Her body was sore and her steps were careful and slow. Having fucked for a good part of the afternoon, the muscles below her waist were stiff. Her cunt was still pumped full of semen that was sliding down her thighs in very slow drips. First thinking to just wipe herself clean, she realized that with Bronn waiting she could do other things. A warm shower. Shave her armpits. Her legs. 

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, Jaime was in a pair of tailored black pants and a crisp white shirt. He was staring at the drawer that held his ties and he looked up when he heard her enter the room. His gaze was approving and delighted at the sight of her in a towel and miles of damp, flushed, heavily-freckled skin.

“You make a very tempting picture, wench,” he told her, the sincerity in his voice telling her this was no joke. “If only you’ll let me take a photo so that I can send it to Tywin to show him why we won’t be making it to dinner.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Brienne told him, shaking her head in exasperation. Goosebumps dotted her skin and she hurried to his closet—now their closet. 

At his place, she kept more than a few essentials as well as a couple of dresses so that she had them on-hand when going out. They planned vacations and trips but not dates—they just rolled with the flow. If out of the blue Jaime wanted to take her to a jazz bar and they were at his place, then she had the dress already. She was also the same—suddenly craving pancakes cooked in bacon grease for lunch, for example, so they threw on clothes and headed off to the diner a mile away from his house. 

As Brienne carefully swept aside one dress after the next hanging on the rack, Jaime leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. His gaze was hot at her legs. “Wench, will you open that garment bag on your left? Sorry, my left. Open it.”

Brienne’s ears pinked, realizing he had another gift for her. “Another? Jaime, it’s too much.”

Jaime’s generosity and sweetness knew no bounds. While walking around the city after brunch today, he suddenly steered her to a jewelry store and coaxed her into trying on several sapphire necklaces before, also at his encouragement, she chose a simple, teardrop-shaped sapphire pendant hanging from a silver chain. 

She protested when he ordered it to be wrapped up. The sales people smiled to themselves as the couple argued before Jaime silenced Brienne by whispering something in her ear. She blushed and bit her lip as he brushed his knuckles on her stomach and nodded.

As soon as they got home, they tore at each other’s clothes. She was dizzy and fevered with this never-ending, ever-burning want that was becoming familiar yet stunned her still. Fucking someone you loved to bits was so different from someone who was just there to scratch an incessant itch, she thought, staring at Jaime with wide, disbelieving eyes as he looked at her with desire. No one had looked at her like this. Not even Oberyn—at least, she didn’t read it in his eyes. Jaime took pleasure in looking at her, and his eyes darkened taking in the sapphires winking from her nipples. They were still sensitive but she felt a little out of sorts without the piercings. He put the necklace on her before taking her to bed—or as far as they could make it towards the bed. 

She was still wearing the necklace as she unzipped the garment bag. The silver was damp and cool on her skin. Her hand flew to her mouth at what was inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jaime smiling as he pushed himself off the doorway to walk to her. 

Inside was a beautiful dress of sapphire blue. It had a high neckline and long sleeves—a style she favored. She grinned at him and pulled it out of the bag, marveling breathily at how perfectly it would fit her even just by looking at it. 

“Of course it does,” Jaime answered. “I look and touch your body all the time, wench.”

“Jaime, you really are too much,” she declared, turning so she could embrace him. “But I won’t have you any other way. Thank you. I love it.” His generosity could make her weep, sometimes. Instead, her arms tightened around him before she pulled away a little, biting her lip. His love for her shone clearly from his eyes. 

“Yeah?” He asked. It was endearing that as brash and impulsive as he could be, he experienced moments of uncertainty too. _Not with me,_ she promised silently. _You’ll always be sure with me._

She nodded and kissed him. What had she done to deserve to be loved this much, without question, without being asked for anything in return, really, she wondered. Since starting their romance, Jaime was unconsciously teaching her about love and desire. She knew only of lust for the longest time—her engagement to Oberyn, she had realized, was based a lot on good fucking although in the beginning, he was a decent man—and slowly learning what love was and could be was causing tremors in a lot of things she thought she knew. It was terrifying but she couldn’t imagine running away from it towards safety. Not when it was Jaime who both challenged her initial perceptions and also reassured her. 

The speed of their relationship, the dizzying turns and the gradual permanent changes made her want to put a stop to it, still. The Seven bless her with a man who understood, who would fight for them but also knew when to step aside and let her breathe. Jaime could be pushy and demanding but Brienne only had to tell him what bothered her and he did as she asked right away.  
It didn’t take long for them to finish getting ready. 

Brienne wore her new necklace with the dress, glad that the fabric was of a good stretch quality without clinging. Jaime asked her to put the neck tie on him, presenting her with the sapphire-colored stretch of silk that was new and matched her dress. She smiled at him, pinking, and she happily put it on him. He didn’t always agree but understood.

“It was nice of Tyrion to have Bronn pick us up,” She told Jaime as they went down the stairs a few minutes later. “We could have just driven.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m really the big brother,” Jaime joked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “He’s a little too protective.”

Brienne kissed him on the cheek. “It’s a trait among Lannisters, I think.”

He picked up her right hand. "And rubbing off on you."

Bronn waiting for them in the living room, rifling through a magazine. He set it aside and stood up as they approached him. Brienne thought he looked like an undertaker—the slicked-back greasy black hair, somber expression and the all-black outfit. He only nodded at Jaime but his smile was friendly toward Brienne. 

“You kids look good enough for prom,” he declared. “Worth the fucking wait.”

Brienne blushed as Jaime put an arm around her waist and squeezed. “Sorry.”

“You I don’t have a problem with,” Bronn told her. He cocked an eyebrow at Jaime. “I can’t fucking wait how you’ll deal with your lion papa. If he had his way, you’ll have your lady here knocked up twice over.”

Brienne’s eyes widened while Jaime clutched at her waist. Both stopped breathing for a moment before Jaime’s kiss on her shoulder got her heart working again. She blushed. 

“Tywin can influence markets, the golden dragon and honor currency exchange. He can fucking dictate for the snow to drop already. He doesn’t have a say on how we’ll be doing our relationship.” Jaime said firmly. 

Bronn raised an eyebrow again. “You really think that?” 

“Let’s just be nice and play along if we can,” Brienne told Jaime, her palms turning clammy. “Let’s not be rude, Jaime.”

Bronn hooted with laughter. “Lass, there’s still a lot you need to learn about this good-looking fucker here.”

 

An hour and a half later, a very pleased Jaime Lannister was helping Brienne out of the limousine. She glared at him, clearly annoyed, but her eyes were too bright and she was too red. That told him she was choosing to be irritated with him, was trying to anyway, despite her entire body screaming that she spread her legs again and take his cock between them until sunrise. 

She snatched her arm from him and in doing so, began to trip on her feet. Jaime chuckled as he quickly steadied her, enjoying her skittish reaction, her body still shaking, her warmth permeating through the layers of her dress and coat. Stormy blue eyes stared at him.

“You’re a real scoundrel,” she growled, the ferocity of her voice and the strength in her eyes making him shiver. 

“Aw, don’t look at me like that, wench,” Jaime teased, his hands settling on her waist as Bronn drove away to park the limo elsewhere in the Casterly Estate. “You said you were tensed. I offered to massage you like the good, thoughtful boyfriend that I am.”

At the word _massage_ , her cheeks flared a cute, vivid crimson. He had to bite back another chuckle as she was clearly remembering just exactly how he had massaged her.

He raised a hand to her cheek and she blushed some more, no doubt scenting her come on the leather glove that covered it. Brienne’s eyes burned like molten sapphires just before he drew her close and kissed her swollen mouth. She struggled slightly but was soon melting against him, her body heavier from the release his fingers had given her in the limo. His tongue delved in the soft, warm depths of her beautiful mouth. Her gasp made his cock swell and press harder against her thigh. Gods, if only there were a tree or something where they could hide for a bit so he could fuck her. His cock was so hard. He groaned against her mouth before his teeth playfully bit her full bottom lip, sucking it hard as he drew away.

He grinned at her dazzled stare, redder cheeks and kiss-swollen mouth. The cold evening wind ruffled her chin-length bob. As she glared at him against and tried to flatten her hair, he thought that Brienne looked absolutely the best just after her orgasm. Almost a beauty, definitely all his. 

As she muttered about looking like a sight, he whispered, “You should always look like I’ve just fucked you, wench. You’re breath-taking.”

She blushed again. “You’re unbelievable, Jaime Lannister. Just what will Tyrion think? Or your father?”

“Getting tensed again?” He asked hopefully. Brienne’s eyes widened as he started raising her skirt, but jokingly. She slapped his hands with her left while her right elbow hit him on the waist, grunting at him breathlessly to behave. He laughed and kissed her quickly before taking her by the hand to drag her towards the door.

“Was that really the way to relax me?” Brienne demanded huffily from behind him. 

He grinned at her and continued leading them. “You should’ve seen how much you appreciated my efforts earlier, wench. If my hand wasn’t enough, I’d have happily massaged you with my cock.”

“This talk is inappropriate,” Brienne hissed, glancing around. 

“No one to overhear us, wench,” he promised as they reached the door. 

Casterly Estate was huge and sprawling. The tree-lined, curving driveway was around two miles long, leading to a stately, four-story mansion that promised intimidation to both family and guests. Though he grew up here, Casterly Estate had never felt like home. He hardly visited after college and when Kingsguard hit the big time, his visits were reduced to once a year, when the Lannister clan gathered for Winterfest. Sometimes, years went by before he visited. The last time he was here was during the luncheon following Cersei’s funeral.

Jaime raised the lion’s head knocker and tapped it twice on the dark, heavy oak door. Brienne stood beside him, her expression now blank and cool although she was still blinking rapidly. When he put his arm around her waist, she relaxed against him and shot him a sympathetic glance. His wench was a wild ride. She went from wanting to kill him to protecting him. It kept him on his toes and had him love her more.

“If your father says anything about babies, I’ll do my best to not tell him to fuck off,” Brienne solemnly promised. 

“Wouldn’t you rather take a sword to him?” He joked. “I am absolutely enthralled at how you’re always ready to fight for me, wench. You’re my knight.” She grinned, to his relief.

The door was answered by a maid, greeting them formally. She first helped Brienne with her coat and Jaime stepped back to look at her admiringly. Blue truly was her color, and the dress he had chosen fit her well. The long sleeves emphasized the strength of her arms and the skirt, a soft flare that ended just above the knee, showed off her glorious, miles-long legs. Brienne faced him and his smile widened appreciatively. The style of her dress had made it difficult to remove earlier so he wasn’t able to have a treat with her tits. Though she was now steady on her feet, there were still certain points of her body still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm. In her high heels, he had to tilt his head to look at her in the eye. The extra height made her all the more appealing. It practically put her tits right at the level of his mouth, for one. 

“Your father and brother are in the study waiting for you, Ser Jaime.” The maid told them as Jaime slipped off his coat and handed it to her. He pulled off his gloves. As he did, he caught Brienne’s eyes and playfully sucked on his middle finger. His reward was the rose-pink flare of heart spreading across her face down to her neck. She gave him a warning look. That was enough enticement for him to plant a deep, open-mouthed kiss on her, pushing his tongue deep in her mouth. He grabbed her closer upon hearing the maid scurrying away.

“Was that,” Brienne whispered as he raked his teeth across her lower lip, “really necessary?”

“When you look at me like that, yes,” he whispered back, smiling. He pushed back her hair away from her cheek then offered his arm. “Shall we, my lady?” He asked gallantly.

“Why, Ser Jaime, yes,” was her response. 

The hallway was long and they passed through several rooms, each more intricately decorated and impressive than the previous one. Brienne clung to his arm and he pressed a reassuring hand on her wrist. Flushing, she confessed, “I feel like a bull set loose in a china shop. Jaime, these are fucking priceless antiques,” she gestured at a crystal vase. “On the walls are pieces of art that I’ve only seen in coffee table books or on loan to the museum by the private owner. How the hell did you grow up here without breaking anything?”

“Some kids learned to play, I mastered proper distancing and pacing,” he said, shrugging. “Stop whispering. We’re not going to get caned, wench.”

“I feel like I’m in one of those novels where a nasty schoolarm lies in wait just waiting for kids to fuck up,” she admitted.

“Don’t worry. I’m here.” He squeezed her hand. “I won’t leave your side.”

“Thank you.”

The door to the study was open. Like all rooms in Casterly Estate, this was also huge and done in dark forbidding tones of burgundy and bronze, the only splash of color the roaring golden fire. Tywin and Tyrion were enjoying their scotch when Jaime and Brienne entered the room. The two men were quick to stand. 

“At last,” Tyrion said in relief. He had been holding the fort, clearly.

Tywin looked disapproving. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.”

Jaime was tempted to tell his father the exact reason for their tardiness, just to rile him up. But he had Brienne to think about. Instead, he refused to rise to the bait and said pleasantly, “The house looks the same, Father. As intimidating as ever, just as you like it.”

“Brienne, it’s good to see you,” Tywin told her. “Come, sit with me.”

Brienne glanced anxiously at Jaime. She looked like she was off to face a wight polar bear weaponless. Jaime’s heart went out to her. Noticing this, Tywin’s voice suddenly gentled. “I don’t bite, Brienne. Please. Sit with me. Tyrion,” his voice changed to that of quiet command. “Get her a drink.” 

_Fuck._

Brienne sat stiffly beside Tywin. As Tyrion easily hopped off his seat to head to the sideboard, she said, “I’d like a Shirley Temple, if it’s okay.” Hastily, she added, glancing at Jaime then at Tywin, “I don’t drink alcohol, I’m afraid.”

“Wow. A girl who doesn’t drink.” But there was no mockery in Tyrion’s voice. He smirked at Jaime. “What do you know, she does like you. Can I get you anything, brother? Ginger ale, perhaps?”

“That would be wonderful, thanks,” Jaime said. Tywin didn’t know that he only took alcohol occasionally now, which, in Jaime’s book, didn’t exactly break sobriety rules. Drugs were his bigger problem, alcohol a consequence. But if he could avoid it, he did. He stuck to wine, mainly, making sure that half a glass lasted him the entire meal. Out of consideration for him, Brienne didn’t drink as much alcohol anymore, except for the occasional wine. 

Jaime sat on a chair opposite from Brienne and his father. As Brienne blushed over Tyrion’s words, Jaime asked, “So, how are things since the last time we saw each other? Did you finally meet with that ambassador?”

Tywin waved his hand at that. “No work. Dear,” he turned his attention to Brienne, his eyes bright and—fuck the Seven, did he actually look excited? “How is your hand?”

“It’s healing well,” Brienne answered. “Thank you for asking.”

The conversation was superficial small talk but Brienne handled it with ease. The stiff set in her shoulders gradually relaxed. Tyrion sat beside Jaime. Noting Jaime’s expression, he teased, “You’ve flipped head over heels for this girl, haven’t you?”

Jaime cleared his throat and took a sip of his ginger ale. “Look at her,” he said, unable to tear his eyes away from Brienne’s ugly red face, her beautiful eyes and the awkward way she was trying to make herself comfortable under Tywin’s eagle-eyed scrutiny. “Just. . .look at her.” His voice softened as a wild rush of love for the wench filled his heart.

A servant let himself in the room to announce that supper was ready. Jaime couldn’t help but smile proudly as Tywin offered Brienne his arm. Tywin was just as tall as Jaime but Brienne was in three-inch heels, standing much taller and looking bigger. As they walked, she kept glancing back at Jaime, who gave her encouraging smiles. The brothers followed after them. 

Tywin brought Brienne to her seat, putting her on his right, to Tyrion’s surprise. The brothers grinned at each other. Jaime sat beside Brienne while Tyrion got on the seat at Tywin’s left. Tywin, of course, sat at the head of the table. Jaime had to resist kissing Brienne as she shot him a grateful look. He took her right hand, still in the cast, and gently kissed it. 

“I love you,” she mouthed at him and Jaime, who had never been gleeful about anything in his life, had to restrain himself from announcing to the table just what she’d said.

Their meal was braised venison, to Jaime’s surprise. It was his favorite. The last time he could remember having it was when Joanna was still alive—she would make it herself, he remembered suddenly. Joanna was a distant cousin of Tywin’s, but from the upper-crust side. Despite her background, he had few memories of his mother just sitting around having tea or doing lunch with the ladies. She was on the board of several charities and was always pushing people to do more for others to care and lend a helping hand. As Jaime was suddenly barraged with memories of his beautiful mother, he recalled that she was fond of emphasizing that it was hard work that made things happened. Money was a doorway but it was tenacity that got you through the door and farther. 

Brienne put her hand on his knee. “Jaime,” her voice slowly pulled him away from memories. “Are you okay?”

Tywin and Tyrion were talking so they didn’t notice. Jaime sniffed and nodded, appreciating how Brienne knew him so well to know that he was distracted. “I’m fine, wench.”

She shook her head. “Jaime, please be careful with that nickname you’re so fond of calling me.”

But she was speaking warmly, a tinge of amusement in her voice. Jaime grinned at her and nodded. Together, they shifted their focus to the conversation Tywin and Tyrion were drawing them to.

Jaime piled Brienne’s plate high with roast vegetables consisting of sweet potatoes and carrots, as well as creamed spinach. She rolled her eyes at him and Tywin caught the fond look they exchanged. Jaime winced inwardly, knowing that the dreaded, intrusive questions on their relationship was coming up. He caught Tyrion’s eyes from across the table, who responded with a helpless look.

“If you’ve known each other for a long time,” Tywin began, “why is it only now that I’ve met you, Brienne?”

As Brienne squirmed in her seat, Jaime cursed under his breath. His expression was calm as he turned to Tywin.

“Father, might I remind you that Brienne is the only woman I’ve ever brought home with me. I don’t do that with anyone,” he answered. The startled expression on Brienne’s face was so cute he wanted to kiss her. “I never introduce a woman I’m not serious about.”

Tyrion raised a glass at Brienne. “About time.”

Brienne’s eyes widened and she nudged at Jaime’s ankle, signaling that he tone it down. Gods, this woman sometimes. Why do I even bother, he thought, already making plans to prove to her just how serious he was. 

“I don’t believe I’ve met a Tarth before,” Tywin continued. “Where’s your family from?”

Jaime wanted to groan out loud. As friendly as Tywin was, he still thought that Jaime was dating beneath his class. The gods fuck my father, he thought, glaring at Tywin. 

“Are you familiar with Tarth, in the Stormlands?” Brienne asked Tywin.

“The Sapphire Isle, yes. Your family derives its name from the place, I take it?”

“Uh, it looks like. I’m afraid I don’t know much about my family history,” Brienne said. “But yes, our name comes from it.”

“And what business is your family in?”

Even Tyrion was shaking his head. 

“My Dad owned a music store in Tarth,” Brienne answered. “He loved rock music and that’s what I grew up listening to.”

“Does he still own this music store?” It was clear Tywin was already making a mental note to check on it.

Brienne flushed. “Um, he’s no longer with us. Dad died a while ago.”

“And your mother?”

“Father,” Tyrion intervened. “I believe Brienne was invited here so we could welcome her, not have her go through an interrogation.”

“I’m not interrogating her.” Tywin said defensively.

“Hey, how’s this for a subject change. According to the latest news, my single is matched with Wolfboyz—“ 

Jaime began but Tywin shot him a frosty stare.

“When I want to hear about your so-called ‘work,’” he said, “I’ll make an inquiry.”

It was old getting put down like this but Brienne was not having it, as Jaime discovered a second later.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Brienne said, frowning. “But what Jaime does is work.”

“Work, you say? My son here, who comes from one of the oldest families of Westeros, the wealthiest family, I add, yet hepromises to prance around onstage naked just so people will buy his song. Tell me how that is work.”

“Jaime worked harder than you will ever know to get where he is now. There’s so much talent out there but I’m telling you, it’s not enough to succeed. You need opportunity, hard work, the right people work with, push you, an audience who likes what you do and keep liking it. You’re right, Jaime comes from a very privileged background. But it would have been so easy for him to fall into its trap. Instead he chose to strike out on his own, in a way that sees very few success stories.”

 _There’s the wench I know and love._ Defending and protecting me even from my own father. From the earnest way she was telling it, she made out Jaime as a hero from an epic. 

“Instead of questioning whether your son does actual work, you should be proud. He’s a true artist.”

“An artist reduced to singing covers.”

“For now. But he’s doing well. He’s taken a risk,” Brienne glanced at him. “And people are rallying behind him.”

Tywin looked at Jaime. “Is this true?”

Brienne was looking at him hopefully, signaling that he take the ball. Jaime actually flushed and took a deep breath. 

 

“I can’t believe we survived,” Brienne told Jaime that night as she stepped out of the closet. She wore a an old, worn gray sweatshirt of hers with ducks high-fiving with their wings and Jaime’s threadbare black track pants. Jaime, leaning against the stacked pillows with his arms behind him, watched as she stood in front of the mirror to comb her fingers through his hair. 

“I did warn you,” he said but he was smiling. “You’re the only one who thinks Tywin Lannister is a sweet man.”

“He just doesn’t understand you.” Brienne joined him in bed, cuddling against him. She licked the side of his neck, sighing happily before resting her head on his shoulder. “When people don’t understand something, they pile on all these judgments and are really hard to talk to. The best we can do is give him time. Or if it won’t kill you,” she added, tweaking his nose with her finger, “have him come along.”

“Still defending Tywin,” he scolded her playfully, kissing her on the forehead. Brienne blushed and burrowed her face against his chest. Her blood was singing as he rubbed her back and continued kissing her in between words. “If he knew how you defend him to Tyrion and me, he’d kiss your big feet.”

She burst out laughing. “Eww! Creepy.”

Tywin had been a little too much asking Brienne about her family, her background, even her medical history. That had been a really tensed moment and she dreaded that Tywin would be rude enough to ask about her most recent period—he did insert in the conversation that pregnancy left permanent changes in a woman’s body, such as the breasts. Tension had Brienne’s nipples tightening to the point of acute pain as Tywin stared at them pointedly. 

Fortunately, Jaime put a stop to it but he was a little crude in describing how he knew for sure that she was very healthy, active and with limitless endurance. She could kill him but she was beginning to get used to it. Jaime may not do exactly as she hoped but he did it anyway, and in unexpected ways that somehow worked in their favor. The big takeaway from the night was the hope that Tywin didn’t think so lowly of Jaime’s work. He could ask Brienne about her eggs as long as he appreciated and applauded his son’s efforts. 

“He’s just concerned,” she explained. “But he’s got too much pride to let you know, let alone show it.”

“Lions do have an insane amount of pride,” he agreed.  
She nuzzled his chest. Here hand slipped under his sweatshirt to caress the ridged plane of his trim stomach. “Don’t I know it.”

His chuckle made his chest rumble under her cheek. “Yeah. You would know.”

“Still learning the ways of the lion,” she murmured sleepily. She yawned and closed her eyes, her hand drifting out of his shirt. She loved sleeping in Jaime’s arms. He smelled good and was so warm, so strong. How had she lived for so long without knowing the comfort his arms offered, the security in his embrace?  
Her sigh was that of deep contentment as Jaime gently positioned her on her back. She adjusted to a more comfortable position, feeling him looming over her. She opened her eyes just as his hand slid down her belly. Her heart stuttered.

Jaime pushed her sweatshirt up until it was high enough to bare her from the ribs down to her navel. His hands, rough and calloused from playing the guitar, had her tensing and breathing deeply. Though sleepy, her body was thrumming with anticipation of their bodies joining again, and reminding entwined in sleep.

“Jaime?”

“Hmm?” He kissed her on the stomach.

“Do you think. .. “ She began then blushed. Would it always be hard to say it?

“What?” He asked, pausing momentarily from caressing her. He rested his head on her stomach and she ruffled his hair. She thought his green eyes were the most beautiful things in the world. 

“Do you think if we told Tywin. . .he would have been, I don’t know, nicer?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So are those hints or what? Stay tuned.
> 
> Merry Christmas!


	8. Only I Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place two weeks before Winterfest.

Brienne didn’t acquire her reputation as a merciless ball-buster in the music business overnight. Though the division of talent between the sexes was close to equal, behind the scenes was still a veritable all-boys’ club. They were in competition with each other, true, but at the end of the day, if you didn’t have the correct appendage, they shunned you. A lot would entertain meetings and indulge you but the condescension was masked by smiles and champagne. A few would outright treat you like a second-class citizen, making it clear that if you were a woman who wanted to get ahead, you had to be ready to spread your legs.

Brienne’s advantage was because she was as tall, even taller than many men, with coarse, heavily-freckled looks, no one had propositioned her. But in the early days of the Kingsguard she had much to learn and the music industry had been very cruel towards her because she had nothing to offer the men. She realized then that she had to rise to a position of power in order for them to have little choice but deal with her. It would be tough but she was used to it. She was used to insults, being underestimated, just as she was being feared.

Her expression was stern as she faced the Second Sons one afternoon a week later. She was in the boardroom, sitting at the opposite head of the table facing Daario Naharis. To be fair to the man, he was the only one who looked at her in the face when speaking and he looked embarrassed for the open way his associates were leering at Brienne. Obviously, they thought that without Jaime around, they could do as they always have before he had warned them. Brienne had to stamp down on the urge to challenge them to a street fight. Therapy was slowly making her hand better—the cast was off, at last. Jaime wouldn’t approve that she was thinking risking her hand again like that but he would approve of her smashing their faces in. Since the night she broke Ramsay Bolton’s nose, she had gotten braver. Her reputation as a tough bitch was pretty much carved in stone now.

“Understand my hesitation to commit Jaime to what you want,” she said, her voice clear and firm. “His album sales have been steadily rising despite the absence of a music video. He and Wolfboyz are now one-to-one, and it’s been predicted that in two weeks he’s going to surpass them.”

“But look at what he’s doing to sustain that,” Daario pointed out. “How many shows has he been on? He’s been on TV, radio, podcasts. He has to update his social media accounts often so that he’ll keep trending. A music video is the last push, Brienne. Just think of what it will do.”

“He’s on print and online media,” she answered. “You’re asking him to take a day and a half to shoot a three-minute video—time away from his commitments. And yet another commitment that would tie him even more to Second Sons.”

“Your reaction is most unexpected, Brienne.”

“Because this just came out of the blue. I understand about taking advantage of his current success but Jaime won’t go for it because it does take advantage of the fans. You can dress it up however you want, pretty it up, but it’s going to be obvious that’s the reason you have a video.” Not to mention that she knew Jaime would never be caught dead in a pop video, even if it was his own song. 

“Maybe Jaime’s calling isn’t really being a god of rock but the king of pop,” Mero interjected. His grin was an attempt at wolfish but it just annoyed Brienne even more. “He’s a pretty man who clearly sells more doing covers.”

Brienne, her expression bland, said, “You do know that from being a god to king is a demotion?”

Mero snorted then narrowed his eyes at her. “You know, if you want me to respect you, you should take off that sweater.”

“Conduct yourself with professionalism or I’ll throw you out myself,” Daario snarled at him. To Brienne, he added, “He means nothing by it.”

“That’s another reason for my hesitation,” Brienne said. She looked at Mero and Prendahl. “Another inappropriate comment towards me and I will rearrange your face. Last I heard, Wolfboyz cancelled some shows because Ramsay had to get a nose job.”

Prendahl opened his mouth to speak but Daario shot him a warning look. “Brienne, just think of what a music video will do. It’s going to be shared and downloaded, the online ads would be on it like it’s glue. Jaime Lannister is hot at the moment. People are panting for anything they can get from him.”

This was true. After some semblance of anonymity thanks to his longish hair, beard and new muscular build, the fans, a lot of them screaming and somewhat vicious teenaged girls, were back. A horde would be waiting outside of the hotel where he was having lunch. More waited outside the studios of the talk shows he was on. During a dinner in a restaurant, at a private table, a determined fan had made it through to ask for a photo. Jaime was often obliging and charming but he had his hand under Brienne’s skirt at the time. Brienne was relieved that they weren’t caught in a very compromising position. Though there were now rumors about the romantic turn of their relationship, they had yet to be caught on camera doing something romantic. Their places of residence were gated communities so the guards kept the paparazzi and fans out. Still, their neighbors had seen their cars at each other’s many times and it was only a matter of time before someone took a video of them kissing in the lawn or something.

“Don’t dismiss the music video, please,” Daario requested. “Give it a day or two, discuss it. We already have a concept. We’ll go for all-out cheese, Jaime in a fancy tailored suit singing the song and his band consisting of hot models in skimpy Winterfest-themed outfits. You know. Mini-skirts. Spiky boots. ”

 

Jaime swallowed his tea too quickly and coughed violently. Brienne winced, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen as he heaved and gasped, slapping his palm hard on the marble countertop. Tyrion protectively covered his cup of a tea with a hand while Rhaegar hopped off his seat to slap Jaime between the shoulders before pouring him a glass of water. 

Brienne was red-faced. Jaime took a few sips of water, wiped his hand across the back of his mouth and uttered, “That is the cheesiest, most un-creative idea for a music video ever.”

“I agree,” she said helplessly. “Besides the time it would take away from what we’re doing, it just sends the message that, ‘hey, since you’re paying for my shit record, here’s a shittier video.’”

Jaime shook his head chidingly and sat down. “I thought you said it’s a good record.” He took another sip of water.

She smiled. “I was quoting you.”

“But he’s selling so much right now,” Rhaegar pointed out. “Are we really going to stick to principles now when he can make a serious killing?”

As a pair of green eyes grown big and another the color of sapphires stared at him in disbelief, Tyrion spoke up, “The man does have a point.”

Brienne liked Rhaegar as a person but he was a bit too music-obsessed. He wouldn’t hesitate doing anything as long as he got to play and sing. She understood passion but Rhaegar toed the line between loving what he did and basically whoring himself out. She knew the band well but it was only recently she got to know them separately. Jaime was the brains of the group, so it made sense he was the lead singer and de facto leader. Had it been Rhaegar, Brienne wondered if Kingsguard would have even distinguished themselves. She couldn’t believe that he and Jaime had not only written and composed the best rock anthems in the last ten years, when Rhaegar operated the way he did. Maybe it was Jaime’s talent that propped him up.

“I understand about striking while the iron is hot,” Jaime said. “But I have no wish to take advantage of fans.”

Brienne nodded. “Precisely.”

“Oh, you two,” Tyrion complained. “You’re not going to compromise your honor doing a music video. Fuck, but you can be both so fucking archaic.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Had the idea of a music video been floated around earlier, I would have said yes in spite of that fuckingly sexist concept. But no way. Besides, doing those talk shows made the increased sales possible. And also Brienne beating up Ramsay Bolton.” He winked at her. “Thank you for that, again.”

She grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“You know, if their management is smart, it will think that you staged the argument to get the sales,” Tyrion said thoughtfully.

“That’s ridiculous. Why would no one think that Wolfboyz could come up with something like that? After all, Ramsay is the cute victim while I’m the vicious, giant blond who smashed his nose to his skull.”

Jaime happily sipped his tea before pointing at her. “I sleep with her," he said in a sing-song voice. 

Blushing heavily, she crossed her arms. Tyrion grinned at her. Rhaegar, however, was determined to get a point across. “What is so fucking wrong about taking advantage when they’ll let you take advantage?”

“That’s not how I do things, Rhaegar,” Jaime replied. “You know me. That’s never my way.” 

“But just think,” Tyrion wouldn’t let it die down. “You won’t have to go off to Braavos and Naath and the gods only know where else to finish promoting the single. They can see you. And when the record hits number one on Winterfest Day, your naked performance would be streamed live. It’s a serving of Jaime Lannister on a platter that no one will be able to resist, am I right, Brienne? Many servings.” He leered at her playfully and though her eyes rolled, she felt warm under the collar of her heavy sweater. No way to stop visions of a naked Jaime on a silver platter covered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream. To her embarrassment, her pussy began to swell, followed by the sweet, hot slide of moisture sliding between her inner thighs. 

, _I will never be in control of my body again,_ she thought.

“Even if he does the video—“ she began.

Jaime shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Okay. You’re not. That’s settled. Even if he does it, we’re not backing out of his tour in Essos. It’s only three fucking days. Things have been arranged. We’re not going to cancel.” 

“You’re putting yourselves through unnecessary work,” Tyrion insisted.

Jaime tossed a cookie at him. “Fuck me hard in the ass, you sound like Father.”

Tyrion threw it back at him and it bounced on his shoulder. “Fuck you.”

“Make sure to clean that up,” Brienne reminded them.

“You know,” Rhaegar suddenly said, “if you want to get some unnecessary work out of the way, why don’t you turn over some responsibilities to a publicist? You have one, right?”

Jaime and Brienne exchanged a look. She had hired a new agency at the beginning but terminated their services shortly. They were slow to ensure Jaime’s name buzzed around, and they often got information and other details too late. So aside from handling Jaime’s career, Brienne also did the publicity—she and Tyrion shared it but it was more on her since she knew the business in and out.

“We’re still looking,” she answered.

“Why don’t you just re-hire Oberyn? In spite of your history, the man was good at his job.”

Yes, Oberyn was the top dog in the field, no denying that. But Brienne had not seen him since she kicked him out of her house. When he started spreading rumors that she cheated on him, she released to the press details of his many affairs, but ensured it wouldn’t be traced to her. It shut him up but she still didn’t want him anywhere near her, and to have nothing to do with Jaime’s career. He was petty and wouldn’t hesitate to torpedo something that would hurt Brienne.

“Maybe you’re fine working with a man who’s fucked your girlfriend before,” Jaime told him, sounding annoyed. “Why don’t you get him?”

Brienne couldn’t believe Rhaegar would suggest such a thing. Didn’t know if he was that big of an idiot or fucking naïve.

“I’m not doing the video,” Jaime declared with unyielding finality. “The idea reeks like cheap cologne and I won’t have anything to do with it.”

 

“Tell me what you think, wench,” Jaime said an hour later. “Should I do the video?”

Rhaegar and Tyrion had left only a few minutes ago, after the two gave up on convincing Jaime. Brienne understood where they were coming from but Rhaegar, oh Rhaegar. He had not stopped surprising her in the worst way. What she once viewed as his earnest love for music was actually that of a mercenary’s. He went where the money was. He told her he signed for another season of The Band because it still gave him a chance to do music but it was a lie. At least Tyrion was upfront about more financial windfall. 

They were in his study, Brienne standing by the fireplace as Jaime slowly undressed her. The warmth of the fire was toasty and nice against her back as he coaxed her arms up to pull off the heavy, gray wool sweater she was wearing. He frowned at the long-sleeved white t-shirt she was wearing under it, making her laugh. Her fingers went to the bottom of her shirt but he stopped her.

“This is one of my favorite things to do,” he told her.

So she raised her arms again so he could remove the t-shirt and the camisole under it. Jaime stepped back, his gaze loving and admiring. His gaze was caressing at the long line of her throat, her broad shoulders and the arms bunched with muscle, her thick wrists. His fingertips skimmed a column of freckles between her tits, the sapphire studs twinkling from her nipples. He looked in her eyes as he cupped her breasts, gently testing their weight in his palms.

“You’d better not be manipulating me with sex again,” she murmured as she put her arms around him. Her whisper was a hot lash in his hear. 

“No,” he promised. “But we seem to have a lot of honest conversation when we’re fucking and after.”

“What do you want?” She asked breathily as his lips danced up and down her throat while his fingers gently pulled at her nipples. Her nails dug at his bare shoulders. “Tell me what you want. I won’t stop you if I believe you won’t regret it later.”

She reached for his face and angled it up slightly. Soft green eyes stared at her before she took his mouth, kissing him hungrily. _Gods._ He tasted of tea and almond cookies, and above all, Jaime. Something of a blend of spice and wonderfully indescribable. She moaned desperately at the waves of pleasure coming at her, wanting him, all of him.

“I’ve already compromised a lot,” he whispered between kisses, his kisses just as devouring. “No more.”

“Then don’t,” she said, biting his lower lip and sucking it. He chuckled and pulled her down the carpeted floor, towards the big, throw pillows stacked at their feet.

She lay back, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Jaime unsapped her long, gray cashmere skirt. As he shimmied it down her hips, then her thighs, it became clear that was once again bare underneath. The grin he shot her was both boyish and naughty, then transforming to dark hunger as the first cluster of her dark blond curls came to view, followed by more than finally, the triangle of her cunt. He tossed her skirt away and she raised her right leg, beckoning him to remove the thick, black stocking that stretched to her toes.

He kissed her on the knee and shook his head. “You look fucking delectable like this, wench.”

“Shut up.”

He positioned her legs, folding them then spreading them wide, her feet resting by her buttocks. He took a quick whiff and grinned again. “You were thinking of me earlier,” he deduced. Her blush confirmed it.

With a daring she had never exhibited before, she demanded, “Show me how I was thinking of you, then.”

“Wench,” he murmured adoringly. He palmed her thick bush, a thumb delving between the folds to caress her clit. She moaned, opening her legs. "Fuck, what a view. Your cunt is beautiful. Made to be fucked by me, wouldn't you agree?" 

She pinked as he lowered his head between her thighs.

His kisses and strokes were surprisingly gentle, and the effect on her even more potent. Brienne’s eyes were bright as they reflected the golden flames from the fireplace, and the soft light from there fell on her like an embrace. She stirred, turning and squirming as Jaime’s hands ran down her hard thighs, his kisses deepening. He licked the soft inner lips of her cunt before taking the soft flesh between his lips and sucking them. She bucked, gasped his name. Rough, hungry groans from him tickled her in the innermost recesses of her body, the sensations so sharp, so very acute. 

She had been primed earlier and his kissing was driving her straight to insane peaks of unscaled pleasure. She pleaded with him as he lapped up her clit, the thick honey flowing from her with every thrust of his fingers. “Oh, oh, gods,” she whined, spine arcing up sharply as he touched a very sensitive spot inside her. 

Jaime paused long enough to say tauntingly, “Who?”

“What?”

He smirked and put his tongue back between her pussy lips.

_“Jaime!”_

Within moments, she was coming, harder than she ever had before. His name spilled from her lips in gulps and sobs, her mind stunned at the intensity of the orgasm. Pink and gold spots were still swirling before her eyes when she felt him laying over her, slick and familiar, all hers. His hard abs pressing on her ribs began to pull her from the clouds. His lean hips resting between her thighs, rocking swiftly ignited a sensation close to a thousand electrical sparks. She gasped, head whipping down to look at him watching her, his expression both expectant and hopeful. 

“Say it again,” he begged, his teeth raking the wide curve of her jaw.

His cock pushed deep. Eyes closing, she exhaled, _“Jaime.”_

His mouth was on her before she could take her next breath. She threw her arms around him, caressing the rippling muscles of his back as he moved with gracefully. Their teeth clashing, tongue tangling, she managed to work her hand far down below his back until she could skim the taut curve of his buttocks. Jaime paused, waiting for what she wanted to do before she grinned and turned so he was under her. 

“Fuck,” he gasped as she sat herself fully on his cock. Gods. Her cunt strained around his cock. He was so fucking big, she thought, beginning to move up and down, her motions tentative, unintentionally teasing. Jaime looked like he was going to die. Her big hands surrounded his face and she pressed her lips on him. He groaned and kissed her back, harder.

Spikes of pleasure started up from between the folds of her pussy, on her clit as her movements had it rubbing against him. Her hands rested on his chest, on the golden fur now matted with sweat. He held her hands there as he watched her. “ _Yes._ Fuck, _Brienne, yes._ Just like that. _Fuck me._ Gods. Wench. _Wench._ ”

Her blush deepened the more he talked, gasping compliments about her wonderful cunt, her sweet tits, cute nipples. He looked at her as he growled she had beautiful eyes, the cutest, biggest nose, the sexiest mouth. A laugh tumbled out of her as his compliments got more outrageous, filthier. He marveled at the tightness of her pussy, he declared that she should be naked all the time. He wanted to fuck her for days and days. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice firm and sure then his finger arrowed towards her clit.

She hissed as pleasure fountained up inside her. Just before it burst, she gasped, _“Jaime!”_

A while later, Jaime drew the worn, fleece blanket over them. It was small, not fully covering their tall forms but he made sure she had her lion’s share. They were still lying on the carpet, surrounded by the makeshift fort of throw pillows and a fire that glowed gold and warmed the room. Sleepy blue eyes watched him as he settled beside her, nude and beautiful, confident. He stared at her as his hand fell on her belly.

She would think nothing of it if not for the habit he was beginning to form. Her stomach tensed for a bit then relaxed as his touch settled more firmly. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, tracing circles over it.

“You’ve never fucked me like that before,” she admitted. _I’ve never been fucked like that ever._ But she didn’t say it because it was pathetic and she had no wish to revisit her sordid sex life pre-Jaime. Sex for her for a long time had been a cock in the dark, hands rough on her body, rarely a mouth sucking her lips. She and Jaime had never fucked with the lights out, she realized. It was always daylight or when evening, with the lights on or candles. It was disconcerting that he enjoyed seeing her. Wanted to see her. 

“I do have to be gentle, you know,” he reminded her.

“We’re not even sure,” but it was hopeless. The tenderness in her breasts had abated, but only slightly. The signs were there, the most glaring of them the one that was absent. 

Jaime started pulling his hand away and she grabbed it back. “Please don’t be mad,” she pleaded.

“I’m not,” he told her and his firm delivery and the calm look in his eyes assured her. “But it’s beginning to kill me.”

“I know.”

“Do you need reminding that I will accept you and love you no matter your decision?” He asked.

“No.” _I'm a terrible person._

“I only ask that we stop skirting around it, wench. It’s here,” he pressed his hand lightly on her stomach. 

She nodded helplessly. “Will you hate me if I ask for more time before I could have the balls to go to the doctor?”

Despite the tension, he pulled her to his chest and kissed her on the cheek. “I can never hate you, wench. But why go looking for a set of balls when you have mine?” She managed to smile. “I’ll take you to the doctor if you want.”

“I do. I need—I want you with me, Jaime.”

“I’ll never be far, Brienne,” he promised. 

“Is it obvious? I mean. . .is it obvious this early? I’m so scared I won’t even look it up online,” she admitted, flushing.

“Only when you’re naked. And in ways only I know. May I show you?”

She nodded. He told her to lie on her back. She obeyed him, blushing as he pulled the blanket away from her. Her chest was red from his kisses and her thighs sticky. But he looked at her as if she were beautiful, the most beautiful thing in the world. Brienne closed her eyes, moaning as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple.

“You’re getting rounder here by the day. Not big, not yet. I doubt you’ll have watermelon hooters.” He sounded like he was smiling and she opened her eyes to check. “But I can tell your tits will have that extra jiggle soon. Your nipples are darker.” His knuckles brushed down the length of her stomach, the span of her waist. “You’re still flat here, though. I don’t know exactly when women begin to show.”

“Don’t you remember with your Mother?” She asked as he dropped kisses on her stomach then her hip bones.

“She was pregnant with Tyrion when I was five. I don’t really remember.”

He might not remember much but she pictured a golden-haired boy, his ear pressed to a round tummy. His expression went from curious to excited, a beautiful smile lighting up his face.

“One day she had a big tummy, telling us. . .” His voice faltered, remembering Cersei. She squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Telling us our baby brother was inside. Then she was holding Tyrion.”

“How was it. . .when you saw. . .that he was. . .” She stuttered, unable to say the word dwarf.

“Tyrion looked like a normal baby. I mean, nothing about him struck me as odd. A little too big on the head, yes. But he was. . .normal all over. Small but all babies are. Cersei wouldn’t look at him for weeks. That’s what I remember. Mom lost a lot of blood and nearly died. Father was cool towards Tyrion too, for a while.”

“You were not afraid,” she murmured.

Jaime grinned. “I thought it was cool that he had mismatched eyes. He was a dwarf but he was a genius early on. He was speaking before he was two and putting together complete sentences before pre-school. He skipped several grades in elementary and then once in high school. He could have started college very early but Mom put her foot down.”

“Really? Why?”

“Weird, right? She and Tywin argued a lot but she persuaded him. She was proud of Tyrion and had no doubt he could handle the demands of college and beyond. But she wanted him to still have time to play, to do the things he wanted, not the things his genius fated he could already do. So Tyrion delayed college, but only for a year. My baby brother understood that she wanted him to relax and be a kid.”

“Your mother sounds like a formidable person. I would have wanted to meet her though she sounds a little scary. To be able to persuade Tywin Lannister?”

“I think I witnessed something like that a few nights ago,” he told her, sounding proud. 

Brienne watched as Jaime’s hand drifted to her pussy, caressing the damp curls there before cupping her possessively. She bit her lip, the touch making her melt and here she was lying down. Green eyes sparkled at her before Jaime kissed her gently.

“Your cunt tastes sweeter,” he whispered."Tastes something close to honey. That’s what I mean about knowing in a way only I can.” She held her breath as a firm finger slid inside her heat. She clutched at his arms as he fucked her with the digit, his eyes darkening. Her legs clamped around his hand. “Your always smell good down here but in the last few days, you smell so fucking delicious.”

“Oh,” she whimpered. _“Jaime.”_

“And one more thing,” he said, climbing on top of her and gently nudging her legs apart. A second finger began to fuck her.

“Y-Yes?” She asked, panting. He lipped her nipple and pulled away, watching her forehead scrunch up. He touched her on the cheek with his other hand.

“You come insanely fast.”

Her eyes widened and she opened her lips to rebut him. His smile was arrogant and all male as he curled his fingers inside. But she couldn’t prove him wrong. Before the idea could fully form in her head, she was once again falling apart, calling his name and begging for more.


	9. Open the Door

Jaime’s tour of Essos was only three days but just hours after he left, Brienne missed him bad. His house was bigger than hers and he didn’t employ any stay-in help except for a cleaning service three times a week, two gardeners to trim and mow the lawn once a week. Jaime did his own cooking and had groceries delivered, or he ate takeaway. They stayed for days at each other’s house so there wasn’t really much work to be done there anymore. But now that she was here, alone, she realized just how big a presence Jaime was. 

He lit up any room and owned it. She could be downstairs working and he was on the other side of the house but his presence was still felt. With him gone, she was learning not only how much time they spend together but also how he had become so ingrained in her life. 

They fucked until it was absolutely time for him to leave. Practically jumping into clothes, neither made much effort to hide from Tyrion and Bronn just exactly what they were doing. Bronn rolled his eyes at Jaime but at least Tyrion went to her and vowed to take good care of Jaime. The Lannister brothers were off to Essos, on the family’s private plane.

Brienne removed her clothes and crawled back to bed. Jaime’s side of the bed was still warm and dented under his weight so this is where she went. She nuzzled the pillow that smelled faintly of his sweat and shampoo, rubbed against his body’s lingering warmth. Her cheeks, throat, her breasts, down to her pussy all the way to her toes were pink and sensitive from being scraped by the beard Jaime had begun to grow again. There was still a tingling sensation on her swollen lips, she could still taste him at the back of her throat. Her thighs were still wet. Partly due to exhaustion from being up all night then the intoxication from his scent, she fell asleep until noon. By then she had missed a call from Jaime. He left her a voice message about arriving at the airport. The flight to Braavos was five hours so he was still en route.

She dragged the blankets with her from the bed to stand before the window. The day was clear, with only the barest feathers of clouds in the blue sky. Though she was seeing the world through glass, the chill in the air still entered the room and she huddled deeper in the blankets, imagining it was Jaime holding her. As she swaddled herself some more, her arms wrapped around her middle. 

The rest of her skin was beginning to cool away from the warmth of the bed and the temporary comfort of the blankets but her stomach, probably because this was the first time she was noticing it, was warm. Biting her lip, she ran a tentative palm up and down the flat surface, her emotions swinging between curiosity and uncertainty. 

There was no question anymore whether she had a child there or not. Jaime had been the only one to take a look at the results of the tests, respecting her wishes that she not be told of the results until she was ready to know on her own. To his credit, Jaime was turning out to be one hell of a secret-keeper. For a man who babbled endlessly, he had not given anything away. But then, what would be the point, anymore? The test was not one hundred percent accurate, true, but her period had yet to show up. By the looks of things, it wouldn’t be for a while. It was stupid to be still in denial, stupider still to have so many doubts and fears when there was Jaime, and Sansa and Sandor. No longer was it a problem of their relationship going a hundred miles an hour, and gaining. That was a teeny insignificant thing. It was her and realizing that she was never going to be alone, that until her last breath there would be a life tethered to her. She, who had never really been around anyone, really. Selwyn, though he tried his best, was an absent father, though she could never hate him. She had no ties to Tarth, having closed up and sold her childhood home years ago. Kingsguard was the only friends she knew, her first real family. Everyone in her life was due to her connection to Kingsguard. 

The garbage were collected a few days ago so she could no longer check the sticks. Briefly, she debated between calling on Sansa or Sandor to get her the tests. No, she decided. This was something she was going to have to do on her own. She touched her stomach again, took a deep breath and looked at its milky skin, the vivid freckles around it, then turned away from the window.

In the closet, she thumbed through clothes on the rack before deciding on one of his cozy, worn sweaters. It was a rich, emerald green, close to the color of his eyes. She wore one of his long-sleeved t-shirts under it, picked from the hamper, only slightly used and carried the knee-weakening spice of his cologne. She paired it with another of her long skirts, this time of black wool. Underneath she wore thick tights and boots. The sapphire necklace finished the look. Only when one looked really close could her nipple piercings be detected. 

As an afterthought, she put on underwear. It was getting cold, after all. 

It wasn’t the healthiest of lunches but her body craved one of the sugary cereals Jaime was too old to be fond of, though to lessen the guilt she threw in a mixture of dried fruit in the bowl. She hesitated about the coffee and with a sigh reached for the milk carton again to pour herself a glass. She popped some of last night’s pizza in the microwave, decided, fuck it, and put the entire thing in. If Jaime were around, he would have teased her about her sinful groans and growls of pleasure over the odd combination of sweet and savory flavors before fucking her on the table.

Brienne drove to Kingsland General Hospital for her therapy. It was only for a week and thought it a waste of time. She wasn’t straining her hand but apparently, activities such as using a can opener and even opening a doorknob could spell disaster on a minor injury that’s just healed. So for an hour a day, she practiced squeezing with her fingers, walking her fingers up a wall, turning her wrist, activities that she believed she didn’t have to drive to the city for, let alone lop off a good part of her insurance.

As she waited for the light to change at an intersection, she spotted a mother and her young daughter, probably aged seven, standing in front of a shop window and excitedly gesturing at the display. They wore matching red coats. When the light turned green and she urged the car forward, she spotted that ahead of her was a car. A child peered at her through the window in the backseat. Blond and pink-cheeked, the child smiled and waved at her.

Normally, she would just ignore it. She hadn’t even looked at children before. This time, she waved back.

A sudden light-headedness hit her and she panicked, feeling the familiar welling in her throat. Oh, gods. She almost wept in relief upon spotting the sleek structure of Kingsland General and hit the gas hard to overtake the other cars, ignoring the angry horns. Swiftly, she curved the car towards the parking lot. She hit the breaks hard upon pulling up in a slot, sending her stomach flipping. Brienne’s eyes crossed as she fumbled for the lock of the door to open it. As soon as it did, she bent, let out a pained groaned and threw up right there, on the ground.

It went on forever emptying her stomach. When it ended, she grimaced, scenting the sour vomit pooled right where she’d be putting her feet later. Wearily, she shut the door and leaned her forehead on the steering wheel. 

_The one time I took notice of children and I get sick._

She was contemplating about skipping her appointment and heading to the pharmacy when someone suddenly rapped on her window. Shrieking, she straightened up and turned big blue at the tall, skinny redhead man outside her window. The man was dressed in a lab coat and surgical green. Red hair. The bear. Frowning, she opened the window. 

“Hey,” Tormund Giantsbane said. “Are you alright?”

She blushed. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“Maybe something’s wrong with my hearing but I’m pretty sure I heard someone who seemed to be dying,” he replied. “Then there’s also the fact that my eyes probably aren’t working well either because it probably wasn’t you throwing up.” At that, he looked pointedly at the mess next to his feet. Brienne’s stomach turned upon smelling it and she made a face.

“I see your hand is okay,” he continued to speak.

“Yeah, yeah,” She muttered. Brienne shifted toward the passenger side and let herself out through there. Across the rooftop of her car, she glared at Giantsbane. Fuck, but his hair was so red under the sun it hurt the eyes. “What do you want this time?”

He looked offended. “Hey, I came over here out of concern.”

“I am just not in the mood to punch you in the face right now.”

He looked mystified. “Why’d you want to punch me?”

Brienne grunted under her breath and shouldered her bag. She clunked toward the hospital’s entrance. To her dismay, Giantsbane followed her.

“You’re one helluva woman, aren’t you—“ he started to say but she suddenly whirled around and narrowed her eyes at him. 

“For fuck’s sake, will you stop trying whatever it is you’re doing!” She exclaimed. “Honestly, the way you look at me borders on sexual harassment. And I just threw up!”

To her annoyance, he just smiled and looked at her from head to toe. As usual, his eyes bored right on her breasts, staring at them so as if lasers would be shooting from him to burn off Jaime’s sweater. 

“Sexual harassment is bit much. Admire, Brienne. You’re the tallest woman I’ve ever seen and your tits—“

“Another word and I will throw you through the door,” she warned.

Giantsbane clearly didn’t believe her because he opened his mouth. Brienne advanced toward him and smirked as he suddenly paled. At last, he left her alone, practically diving through the doors and never looking back. 

She had just entered the hospital when her phone rang. Jaime. Relieved, she answered it. “Hi.” 

“Wench. “His voice was slow molasses. “Finally, I hear from you.”

“Sorry. I was asleep.” 

“Oh.” Then, sounding smug, he said, “Fucked you to exhaustion, didn’t I?”

“Jaime, you fucked me beginning at ten last night. I was only able to sleep for twenty minutes before you decided to make a marathon out of it.” Yet she was blushing. Brienne lowered her voice, glancing cautiously around for someone who might overhear. The nurses were at their station looking grim while doctors and other nurses walked or rushed down the hallway. No Giantsbane. Thank the gods. 

He chuckled. “Sorry, wench,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I called to tell you I’ve landed. Where are you?”

She groaned, looking for the elevators. “Fucking hospital.”

“Hey, come on. You know it’s necessary.”

“Jaime, they make me squeeze a rubber ball on and on,” she complained. 

“Well, when I return you can show me how much your squeezing has improved.”

“Gods, you. Can you not?”

“What?” He said innocently.

Brienne let out an exasperated sigh as she approached the elevators. “I’m off to therapy, Jaime. I have to go.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you before bed tonight. Better yet, can we have a video chat?” 

“You’re on.” She said, pressing the up button on the wall. “I love you. Be great over there, okay?”

“I swear,” Jaime told her. “Alright, wench. I love you.”

Brienne went to a restroom first to gargle and rinse her mouth. She didn’t have mouthwash on her, just peppermint breath spray so it will have to do. She splashed cold water on her face to get rid of some of the redness and to relax, a bit. Bad enough she was anxious about a child but that fucking doctor hitting on her still after having witnessed her throw up was disturbing but also very, very annoying. What was it with men? Ever since she and Jaime came together, they had been coming on to her. Rhaegar was especially touchy during the after-party too. If it didn't offend her, she would willingly wear a t-shirt that said, “I fuck Jaime Lannister and no one else, pervert.”

She rode the elevator that will her to the therapy floor. She went through the motions of her memory with only half a mind. That was one advantage about the mindless tasks she had to do. No need for total concentration, she only had to mouth token words.  
The hour passed quickly. With her session now at its end, she focused her mind back, feeling a swoosh of alertness between her ears as she thanked her physical therapist and left. she waited for the elevators to take her down. When the doors parted, she simply went in without bothering to check if it was going up and down. 

The elevator had gone two floors before she realized her mistake. It was going up. She hurried out falling behind several women and two couples. She was thinking that every one of those women were pregnant when she thought to check what floor she was on. Realizing where she was, Brienne froze and swore her heart stopped beating. 

 

Jaime was going on a three-city tour in Essos. Naath was his first stop, the farthest, then Meereen and finally Braavos. It was hours between the city even by private plane. The tour was more of a loss but Jaime had pushed Brienne to arrange it because fans and Essos were just as devoted, albeit to Kingsguard. He was going there solely on faith, hoping that the fans who liked him in Kingsguard would still do in this unexpected interlude with pop music.

From the moment Jaime and Tyrion landed, they were off. The trip was short, which meant much had to be crammed in, and also room for last-minute changes and arrangements. Jaime just made it to his first radio interview and was still panting a bit while the deejay introduced him. Then he and Tyrion were off to the first of his three TV guestings in Naath. 

At least he was able to speak with Brienne earlier. Though his head was at work, she was never far from his thought. They had only been together hours before but he missed the sapphire-eyed wench really badly. He was insane to continue with this trip without her, even more when there was still the matter of the child she refused to discuss. 

She let Jaime find out the results of her pregnancy test but begged him not to tell her until she was ready. Realizing what it took for her to ask him this, he respected her wish. How easy it was to dismiss her fears, but he loved her and understood. The idea of a child with her made him so happy he was singing to himself—Tyrion had given him a strange look twice already—but he had to remember that Brienne was freaking out. Probably a lot more freaked out than she was letting on. 

It wasn’t until close to midnight that Jaime found himself back in the plane just waiting for take-off. Tyrion was overseeing things as usual. As their luggage was loaded, he got his tablet and got in touch with Brienne. Naath was three hours ahead so Brienne was still awake.

She came on a few seconds later, rubbing her eyes and looking a little pale. Jaime straightened up in his seat, concern on his face.

“What happened to you?” He demanded sharply. As she looked at him in surprise, he gentled his tone. “Sorry. But you look. . .well, you look like you’ve been crying.”

“Oh.” Brienne sniffed. Her blond hair stood on their ends but the left side was flat, indicating she had been lying down on her side. She looked uglier than usual yet sweeter, more endearing. Brienne was an intriguing balance of consistency, constancy and contradictions. 

“I fell asleep.” She adjusted her position and Jaime saw she was in her living room. “Sorry.”

“You’re not at home,” Jaime said.

“I am home.”

His home, hers, they were interchangeable. “I meant my place.”

Though she was pale, her cheeks fired up. “Your house felt so empty without you there. So I’m staying here until you come back.” 

“Aw, how sweet. You missed me.”

She smiled, her teeth all big and crooked, horsey and beautiful to him. The warmth of her smile was reflected in her lovely eyes. “Of course,” she whispered. Then she squinted at him. “Where are you?”

“In the fucking plane. We’ll be taking off in a bit.”

“How was Naath? Did you promise to perform naked as well?” She said dryly.

“Tempting to make the offer but fuck, wench. The men in Naath are fucking built. I felt like a ninety-pound weakling next to them.” Jaime confessed. “Their cocks are probably as long as my arm.”

“I did not hear that.”

“Aside from missing me, what else did you do today?”

Brienne rolled his eyes and he laughed. _Ah, my darling lady wench._

“You mean aside from cry and take your pillow with me?”

He grinned. “Did you?”

“Cry? No. But I did take your pillow. Smells like you.”

“You know, my boxers would be better.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You still love me.”

“Gods, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Hmm. You are.” Jaime drawled. “Times like this, I kind of see the sense of why you should wear panties, wench. It’s a little something of you to take with me when I’m away.”

Brienne blushed again and he smiled. “Seriously,” she said impatiently, “how did it go in Naath? Do you hate me for how I scheduled your tour there?”

Jaime shook his head. “Nah. I wanted this. The reception is. . .” he scanned his head for the word and blurted out, “warm.”  
“Warm?”

Jaime thought back. There was no snark in his radio interviews, unlike in Westeros. On TV, he was asked questions about the song, yes, but no one attacked him for doing the cover of a pop song. But people in Naath were the calm, peace-loving sort so maybe that was why. 

“I was awarded the Golden Honor Record today. I sold several hundred units in a week, apparently.”

“Oh, Jaime, that’s wonderful! I’m proud of you. I did tell you it’s a good song. I wish you’d listen to yourself sing it. Sure, it’s not your taste but you sound good. That says a lot.”

“That my angelic voice makes shit sound like gold?”

“You’re good, Lannister. As for the angelic bit, I wouldn’t push it.” She retorted.

“My wench. You bring me paradise but you keep my feet right on the ground,” he mused.

They were still talking when Tyrion sauntered in, whistling, followed by Jaime’s agent in Essos, Yezzan zo Qaggaz. Tyrion was quick to deduce that Jaime was talking to Brienne, calling out, “By that idiotic smile on your face, that has got to be my favorite blond giantess.” 

“Oh, you’re talking to Bree?” Yezzan said. “Say hi to her for me.”

Brienne was Jaime’s primary agent but he also had representation in the region of Essos. That was Yezzan. He reported to Brienne. 

Jaime sighed. “I have to go, wench. I’ll dream of you tonight.”

“Loser!” Tyrion shouted, making Brienne laugh and blush from the screen.

“See that you do,” she told him and blew him a kiss. Jaime mimicked catching it and waited until she signed off. 

Yezzan and Tyrion sat on seats opposite across from Jaime. Yezzan had his tablet in hand, efficient as always. 

Yezzan was a few years younger than Jaime but older than Brienne. Slim with black hair and round, clear dark eyes, Yezzan was an elegant figure who moved as if gliding. Brienne once joked it was because he used to be a competitive figure skater. 

Yezzan, Tyrion and Jaime discussed his upcoming schedule. As expected, he two last-minute photos shoots and profile interviews were squeezed in, both in Braavos. They were for Braavosi Men’s Monthly and Free Cities. Meereen was looking to be the lightest tour with just two late-night talk shows and a performance in a morning show. In between, journalists from the two Braavosi magazines would be flying in to do the interview. 

Tours were a bitch but fun. However, doing it alone, Jaime was reminded even more that Kingsguard was no more. It hurt a lot, as he was the one to organize and get the band together. It was probably stupid to promise each other never to perform without one of them but it was important to him that it would always be the five of them and no one else. They were friends first, brothers even, and bandmates next.

Going on tour was a lot more fun with them. As Yezzan and Tyrion conversed quietly over a drink, Jaime looked out of the window, remembering those days. 

Stannis was the straight arrow in the group, going straight to bed as soon as a concert was over and had zero tolerance for groupies throwing themselves at him. It got him much ribbing from Sandor, who declared that if he was born with a cock jammed in his ass instead of a giant stick he wouldn’t be such a drip. Loras sort of functioned as the neutral party between the two, who often clashed. Rhaegar and Jaime took turns instigating crazy, idiotic acts and keeping the band in line. On occasions that the entire band left their brains in some undisclosed location, Brienne was their drill sergeant. 

It was common to get on each other’s nerves, especially halfway through a tour and with only each other for company on long flights. Cersei’s presence was extra challenging because she would pester Jaime to be with her and was impatient when he couldn’t be. He tried fixing her up with Rhaegar, once, but Rhaegar wasn’t interested. Sandor also passed. Stannis and Cersei made it through a dinner but at the end of it, not only were they bad-mouthing each other but they also put Jaime in the impossible position of choosing between them. Brienne had to intervene. Stannis wanted Cersei out. Cersei wanted Jaime out of the band. Brienne was able to talk some sense into Stannis but she and Jaime had an ugly row regarding his sister. 

He was still loyal to her, then. Well, he would always be but for the longest time, he was the blind fool who allowed himself to be pulled and pulled by her. It was cruel to think ill of the dead but Jaime later realized that Cersei never needed him as a brother. She needed someone who would be there for her, live only for her. In a way, she and Brienne were similarly selfish. But at least Brienne felt horrible about it and hoped to change. If Cersei had been told, she would have thrown things and hurt him. She was entitled. Hurt and haunted by guilt but entitled, nevertheless. And manipulative. And sick in the head, to strip before her twin brother and beg him to choose her. 

Jaime had forgiven Cersei but when Brienne told him what she had done, how she had kept them apart, he felt anger towards her memory. He beat himself up over causing her death, had been conflicted if he was wrong to not let her get her way with him. So much he lost for his sister when she was in fact ensuring that he would never gain anything. _Brienne._ Just the idea of never being with her. . .that if Cersei were still around they wouldn’t be together tore him up. 

He fell asleep during the two-hour flight, dreaming of glittering sapphires and hearing horsey guffaws and giggles. Giggles. His mind latched on that, his forehead wrinkling as he concentrated on putting it into image. There was a flash of something white, or maybe it was pale hair. Something warm and gentle blew against him, and he was surrounded by a kind of warmth unlike anything before. He felt comfort but also some anxiety. Interesting. Yet, something told him to go forward. That this was it. No turning back. 

More giggles. Man, he would really like to see who was doing it but he wasn’t able to. Tyrion was soon waking him up, yawning hugely as he did. His blond hair was mussed and truth be told, Tyrion looked more grotesque dead on his feet. Jaime patted him on the hand to assure him he was awake and sighed. 

A small throng of fans were waiting for him. While Tyrion and Yezzan held back, Jaime rubbed the sleep off his eyes and gamely posed for photos and signed all autographs. It took him half an hour before the crowd emptied and they could head for the hotel. Tyrion fell asleep immediately. Yezzan reminded Jaime that the call-time for the morning show was in four hours.  
The Grand Meereen Hotel allowed for in-room check-in, a convenience he didn’t really appreciate before until now. As the men went to their respective suites, Jaime wearily sank down on the bed in his, still wearing his travel clothes. He was too tired to wash up so he just stripped nude before crawling under the covers. Before falling asleep, he sent a text message to Brienne that he had landed and was going to sleep for a few hours.

The release and relief of sleep was short, however. Just before Jaime sunk into a dream, someone rang the doorbell. Gentle chimes filled the room and he groaned, putting the pillow on his head.

“Fuck you, go away!” He yelled.

Instead, the doorbell rang again.

Whoever it was deserved to have his legs broken, Jaime thought angrily as he hustled out of bed and dragged on his pants. Vowing seven bloody hells, he threw the door open, disgruntled and looking mad enough to kill.

He must still be dreaming. He had to be. Jaime squinted in disbelief at the person standing before him, torn between annoyance and surprise. 

Shaking his head, he declared, “I never thought I’d see you again.” 

Loras Tyrell waved a hand in front of his face, making a face. “Phoo. You’ve got some breath on you.”

“Fuck you,” Jaime snapped.

Then he threw his arms around his former bandmate, one of his best friends in the world, and hugged him tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's clear where Jaime stands on the baby front so in this chapter, I give the focus regarding this on Brienne again. For Jaime, it's memories of Kingsguard.
> 
> You didn't think Loras was never going to show up, did you? :-)


	10. Shock to the System

“You know, when you said you were going to help easing me to the idea, this wasn’t what I had in mind,” Brienne remarked with a sigh. She picked up a pink dragon slushie and rattled it a bit to listen to the soft bells sewn inside. Then she returned it to the pile and turned around to see Sansa holding a white direwolf slushie and a black puppy slushie in the other. She was looking at them critically before holding them up to Brienne.

“Which is cuter?” She asked.

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you not get something that has stuff the baby might eat?” Brienne plucked at the nose button of the direwolf.

Sansa smiled brightly. “Look at you! You know things I don’t. You are so ready for this, Bree. You’re just being a fucking chicken.”

She wheeled her cart forward. It was close to overflowing with blankets, clothes, cloths, and bottles. Following Sansa, Brienne asked, “Why are you getting all this stuff? I thought you were going to have a baby shower.”

The two women were shopping at Babyland, the premier store for all baby stuff and needs. Never had Brienne seen so many diapers, nipples and all the things a baby she didn’t think would ever need in her life. The endless loop of one nursery rhyme after the next was driving her near mad that she would be chewing at her own arm in a bit. 

The customers were mostly women, each of them wearing a serene expression, like they were the Mother incarnate. There were a couple who only looked a few months along, some as big as Sansa and a few more who looked ready to pop any second. The salespeople were dressed in fitted collared shirts and khakis, the men with their hair slicked back and the women with ponytails so tight Brienne could feel a headache coming on just looking at them.

She felt wrong and too big in the place exploding with the colors of the rainbow and everyone gabbing about sore nipples as if they were the greatest thing. The mothers were dressed in loose flowing clothes in pretty pastels—Sansa was in a soft pink dress, gray leggings and flat, camel-brown boots. Brienne had dressed to match her mood—head-to-toe black and looking like a man in Jaime’s leather jacket. Three time she had been addressed as ‘sir.’ 

“I still am. I just thought to get the stuff that I’ve personally chosen for my baby,” Sansa replied, flinging her loose braid over one shoulder. 

“A baby registry is a list of stuff you’ve chosen for the baby,” Brienne pointed out.

“Not the clothes. And these,” Sansa said, stopping before a display of storybooks. “Huh. How early do you think I should start reading to him?”

Brienne was about to reply when she realized what Sansa had just said. Mouth open, she breathed, “You’re having a boy?”

Sansa nodded excitedly, turning a beautiful shade of pink. “Yeah. You’re the first to know. I haven’t even told Sandor yet.”

“Why the fuck not? How long have you known?”

“Almost a month. But it’s his birthday in a few days so I thought that’s when I’d tell him,” Sansa said, turning away from the storybook display and wheeling her cart again. “We had this pact to wait until the birth but I couldn’t resist. And I know he’s regretting it too. You know that we decided to paint the room yellow and it was already finished when he decided that it was, well, too neutral.”

“So what happened?”

“He had the paint redone. It’s now this soft, purple-gray thing. Pretty, actually.”

“Congratulations,” Brienne said sincerely. “I know it’s odd coming from me but I can see you’re happy so I’m glad about that.”  
“Gods, can you believe it?” Sansa shook her head in disbelief. “A boy. There’s, like, a little penis growing inside me.”

Brienne made a face. “Yeah, that you should never tell him, alright?”

Sansa laughed. “Alright.”

They stopped at the crib section. Sansa oohed and aahed over the displays but for Brienne, they all looked the same. It was disappointing, really. Sansa thought to bring her here to shock her and have her face the reality of what was happening. Instead, she was more cross than ever. 

Jaime had returned from Essos three days ago. Brienne worried he would get wind of what had happened in his absence—he was always teasing her as having the most expressive eyes and that she was a bad liar. She was on pins and needles watching him go over the mail, then when she was in bed waiting for him, waiting for him to ask or to say something. But nothing. Instead, they talked about his quick but successful tour. The days following that was all about tracking record sales and doing more TV appearances, profiles interviews and photo shoots. Jaime was now overselling Wolfboyz but only by a very small margin. They wouldn’t know until Winterfest Eve.

“Can I confess something, though?” Sansa asked Brienne while touching a mobile of cats of one crib. 

“Sure.” 

Sansa glance down at her stomach then at her. “It doesn’t mean I don’t love this baby less but I was hoping for a girl.”

Brienne paused and looked at her. “What?”

“It sounds awful, doesn’t it? But. . .I’m the eldest, right? And I have Robb and Bran and Rickon for brothers. Now that they’re older they’re. . .better. But for the longest times they were fucking brats. I mean, they still have instances—let’s not forget what Robb and Bran did to you only a short while ago.” Sansa had been furious upon finding out what her brothers had done. While Catelyn had made them apologize, Sansa called them out on their obnoxious behavior. Brienne was her best friend and for Sansa, it shouldn’t have only been Ramsay to get punched in the face. She had to press her mother to get her brothers to pay for Brienne’s medical expenses. Jaime had to insist she take it, the least they could do to make up for being assholes.

“I’ve always wanted a sister but never got one. Then when I found out I was pregnant I dreamed about a daughter and well, I guess it’s my lot in my life to be always surrounded by men,” Sansa shrugged. “It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

Brienne blinked wordlessly at her best friend absently running her hand back and forth across a crib, her other hand on her pregnant belly. This was a revelation. Sansa had taken to motherhood easily, squealing into the phone when she got positive results on her pregnancy test then searching like mad for perfect baby names. That she was experiencing a misgiving such as this was so very unexpected. 

Sansa raised her pale blue eyes to look at Brienne hopefully. Brienne put her big hand over her delicate one.

“I think we should stop beating ourselves up about what’s horrible and not,” she said, searching her mind for the right words to say. “And just feel what we feel.”

“You don’t think I’m a terrible person?”

“No! Although you could have eased me into the process instead of this,” Brienne gestured around them. “This is the equivalent of baby madness regurgitation. What the fuck is BPA and why is it bad?”

“Gods if I know,” Sansa said.

She stared at the crib again. Brienne gave it a closer look this time. It was white, a cute mobile of black and white cats, pretty pillows dotted a soft, mint green. Remembering the color of their baby’s room, she came to a decision. It would be perfect.

“Why don’t I get this for you?” 

Sansa quickly removed her hand. “What?”

“I’ll have to get you a baby shower gift eventually,” Brienne pointed out. “Why not this?”

Sansa’s eyes were big and she held up the price tag. “Brienne, it’s almost two thousand dragons.”

Yes, it wasn’t cheap. But Brienne had taken note of the prices of the others and this seemed the normal price. But she could afford it. And she wanted to.

“I know. But let me get this as a gift to you as thanks for how you and Sandor practically beat me into finally getting tested,” Brienne insisted. “This is more for me. Come on. Let me do this.”

“That’s really generous, Brienne Alright. If you say so. I happily accept.” Sansa declared, beaming.

Their purchases were rung up and arrangements made to deliver the crib. They strolled out of the store, laughing and talking over their packages. Before they parted, Sansa handed her a small gift-wrapped package. It had the store logo.

“I ordered it yesterday. I thought originally this was how I’d eased you but hauling you to the store proved much better.” She said.

Brienne, curious, asked if she could open it. Sansa nodded excitedly. She removed the ribbon and peeked in the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of cotton, was a beautiful, silver rattle.

This time, Brienne’s eyes were huge as she held up the small, darling thing.

“Sandor got me the same rattle when I told him I was pregnant,” Sansa explained. “I realize it’s more of a husband or boyfriend thing to give. But I wanted you to know that I believe in you, Bree. I’m here anytime you need me. It’s fucking nothing compared to what you just gave me but I hope it helps.”

Brienne sniffed and put the rattle back in the box. “I think it’s sweet. Thank you.”

They hugged and Sansa kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Brienne waited until she was inside her car and pulling out of the parking lot and toward the street. As Sansa’s car disappeared, she opened the box to take out the rattle and look at it again. 

It was so small. It belonged to the teeniest hands.

“Whoa. Did I miss something or what?”

Startled, Brienne turned around and saw Bronn, his arms laden with packages from the coffee shop next door. His gray eyes were staring curiously at the rattle then at her.

 

Bronn hid a sigh after Brienne finished talking. After seeing Brienne holding a rattle in front of the baby store, she had burst into tears. Bronn had little choice but to haul her to the coffee shop, get her some tea and send a message to Tyrion he was going to be late. He wasn't about to leave alone a crying woman. 

Fucking Lannisters, he thought. The woman sitting right across from him was no Lannister but she would be soon. Having been around Lannisters longer than she had, he had a pretty good idea how they worked and thought. It could be summed up it two words: right now.

When Tywin wanted to get rid of an ineffective employee, he didn’t dilly-dally. The unfortunate person was summoned to his office, given the verdict and was being escorted out of the premises ten minutes later. If there was a proposal Tyrion didn’t approve of, he didn’t fire the person in charge but he demanded revisions right now. Not a day after. Right now.

As soon as Jaime find out about the lass he’s going to haul her to the nearest sept and make her one of them, Bronn thought.  
Brienne Tarth was no beauty to fight over but she was definitely intriguing. A woman who managed and controlled the biggest rock band alive, who had Jaime Lannister wrapped around her finger, impressed Tyrion and had Tywin actually fond of her (Bronn had never seen the man look at anything like that ever, even his children) was something special. She was ugly and taller than most men, also bigger too. These things went against her but there was hardly a man who didn’t think what it would be like to fuck her. They might prefer to do it from behind but that would be a loss, in Bronn’s opinion. She had pretty eyes and having long legs like hers wrapped around was definitely something not many men would experience. Jaime Lannister managed to get her in his arms just in time else Bronn would have made a play for her.

While he did entertain a thought or two about fucking the Tarth lass, right now his thoughts were of concern and worry. She was afraid and reminded him of a child, actually. Her tea was untouched and was now cool and extra-bitter. She was really unexpected. A typical woman would be thrilled at having a cub in the oven. It meant access to the immense Lannister wealth, after all. Brienne Tarth was not only resistant to the idea but from what she had told Bronn, it never crossed her mind how much richer she was going to get becoming a Lannister. 

Women were always throwing themselves at Lannisters. Tywin was a fearsome businessman but women of all ages sized him up and wanted him. But like Jaime, he had never been interested and as far as Bronn knew, he remained faithful to the memory of his wife. Tyrion was the only one who partook although lately, the women were significantly fewer. It was becoming boring, really. One of the perks of his job was the endless parade of stunning women wanting a piece of the Lannister riches, never mind if it was Tyrion. It fell on him to have their miniscule dresses dry-cleaned and ready to be worn after being fucked. Then he drove them to wherever they wished. Some had cried on his shoulder and from there, it was only a matter of a few soothing words, a well-placed touch before the crisp, freshly-laundered dress was falling to the floor .

Bronn wasn’t surprised with Jaime and Brienne’s relationship. What boggled the mind was it took them a very long time. He had seen it from the beginning. Jaime gave everyone a hard time but he took near-sadistic pleasure when it came riling up the sapphire-eyed wench. Brienne wouldn’t be intimidated and it was such fun watching them bite each other’s head off. 

“Hold on just a second there,” he told her. “Are you telling me that Sansa knows, Sandor knows, and now I do but Jaime?”

Brienne nodded miserably. “And the doctor, of course.”

He shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Fuck you.”

“Well, fuck you too. I get that you’re scared shitless, lass. I really do. But it isn’t right to let this go on for as long as you have and have everybody else now but Jaime. If Tywin Lannister finds out before he does, he’s not going to forgive you.”

“You’re not helping!” Brienne wailed.

“Tough shit, babe. People have been helping you and handling you with fucking kid gloves. If you expected me to pat you on the back and hug you, I’m the wrong person. I have no loyalty to Lannisters but I know how they work. You do as well. Fucking tell Jaime as soon as you get home. Better he knows first than Tywin. You seem to have forgotten how he has tentacles all over the city?”

“Tywin is not going to force Jaime and I to get married just because I might be pregnant.”

 _“Might?”_ Bronn nearly roared. The people in the cafe looked at them and Brienne covered her face.“Even I can tell you’ve grown tits, Brienne. I’m an ass man. The fact that I’m noticing means they’re really there.” And by the looks of it, she would be having a nice pair. Bronn like firm, round tits. 

“That’s impossible.” She growled but her arms flew up to cover her chest. Her face a rich, vivid red, like a zit about to explode.

“Tell Jaime. I’m telling you. Better he knows first than Tywin.”

Brienne glared at him. “Are you going to tell Tywin?”

Bronn let out a huge groan and smacked a hand to his forehead.

 _“Are you?”_ She demanded again.

“Fucking Lannisters,” he muttered. His gray eyes narrowed at her. “Yeah, that fucking includes you, Brienne. You won’t be able to stop Jaime from marrying you and putting more babies in you. Fucking Lannisters. Fuck the lot of you.’


	11. Picture of You

Brienne’s ears were still ringing from the sermon Bronn had subjected her to. Bronn. Fucking Bronn. Tyrion often complained that the man had no concept of boundaries but he was good at his job—whatever it was he did exactly for the other Lannister brother Brienne wasn’t sure. He was valet, chauffeur and everything else that can be thought of and in between except Tyrion Lannister’s whore.

Jaime’s car was already parked in the garage so she pulled up behind him, leaving more than adequate space for him to maneuver should he need to leave first. She took care pulling the key out of the ignition before sitting back, leaning against the headrest. 

Alright. So Bronn had been way harsh but he was right. Annoyingly, fuckingly right. People had been handling her with kid gloves, Jaime was, well, he was Jaime, he was often too much of everything and his patience and understanding were killing her. The visit to the baby store had been a jolt but Bronn was the equivalent of sticking a fork in the socket, knowing things weren’t going to be good from that point on but still doing it because there was no choice.

Brienne took her bag with her as she slid out of the car. Squaring her shoulders, she entered the house through the back, finding herself in the kitchen first. On the counter was a small plate holding only crumbs and next to it a half-full mug of coffee. It was still a little warm so it hadn’t been too long since Jaime left them. She put them in the sink, once again taking care, before she hollered for him.

She peeked in his usual hiding places. The study was empty. As was the entertainment room. The living room. The library. No Jaime in the bedroom too. Which meant he was downstairs in the basement, in the soundproof room where he fired up the electric guitar of choice and played on for hours. Brienne went there, scenting his cologne on the staircase before she knocked on the door and swept it open.

Soft piano music greeted her. This was where Jaime stored the musical instruments he played and every device and object needed for recording songs. It wasn’t a studio, per se, it was more of a practice room. Brienne eyed his gleaming collection of electric and bass guitars on their stands, glanced at the drums before her eyes were drawn towards the baby grand piano. Here Jaime sat, playing a soft, more melodious version of a classic rock song. She tipped her head to the side, listening to the strains, blushing as Jaime smiled at her, before recognizing it as an old Jorah Mormont song, “She-Bear.”

Brienne was more familiar with Jaime singing and playing the guitar although she knew he played other instruments too. He looked right at home here, happy and carefree, even. She closed the door behind her as he called out, “Wench, look at you. You look fucking delectable. I mean, look at your tits, wow.”

She was still wearing the jacket but it was unzipped. Her t-shirt was black but maybe Bronn was right about her breasts.   
Blushing, she managed a small smile. “Hi.”

“Sit beside me,” Jaime said, continuing to play. 

Brienne dropped on the bench next to him, her gaze admiring. There was no question that Jaime had one of the best singing voices, if not the best. But people tend to forget he was a very talented musician too. His fingers danced and flew over the keys of the piano with easy grace. He wore a black sweater with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, baring his forearms and the golden fur on them. _Fuck. Even his forearms were sexy!_

“You’re sweating, wench,” Jaime remarked as he finished with the song. “You okay? It’s freezing but look at you, you’re flushed.”  
 _Because you’re too sexy and I’m about to drop a sort-of bombshell that will change our lives forever,_ she thought, holding her breath as his lips nuzzled behind her ear. 

“Where’s my kiss?” He teased her, catching the tip of her earlobe and sucking it. She shuddered, feeling a white-hot trail blazing from where he was kissing her then down to the aching place between her thighs. She turned her head, mouth open to speak but she chose to kiss him instead. _Gods._ It was always _soo_ good kissing him.

Jaime slanted his mouth against her, his tongue sliding past her chapped lips to play with her own. Sitting like this was awkward for the kind of kiss they wanted to do and she grunted in frustration, her fingers crushing the collar of his sweater. Chuckling, he pulled away for a second so he could swing his leg over the bench and straddle it. Brienne did the same and knocked the bag beside her hip to the floor. The leather portion landed with a thump but the gold clasp emitted a dull clang, effectively killing the mood. Brienne’s heart stilled as she saw that the bag had popped open on impact, spilling its contents.

“Let me,” Jaime said, swooping down before she could stop him. But she must have made a squawk of protest because he turned to her, frowning. “What?”

“I can do it!” She slid from the bench to kneel on the floor and under the piano to scoop the contents back to her bag. She shoved them back in, her face reddening and sweat gathering at her nape as she finished with the task and closed the bag. Gods, if he saw the rattle. And--

Jaime, still straddling the bench, asked, “Everything alright?”

“Sure. Um, I was worried I broke my phone when the bag fell,” she explained quickly, putting it back on the bench next to her. 

“Is it?”

“What?”

“Your phone?”

“Oh! Yeah. It’s fine. It’s fine.”

_You’re babbling like a fucking idiot!_

“So,” she said, attempting to be coy and seductive yet knowing the darkening blush on her face was guaranteeing her failure, “Where were we?”

Jaime grinned, cupped a hand around her nape and kissed her again.

 _I love this man,_ she thought, kissing him back ardently. _I love him more than life itself and he feels the same. Why the fuck am I so afraid? Haven’t we been through a lot together for me to know that he’s not going to walk away?_

It was a hard test of faith when she left him that night over a year ago. Unable to watch and participate any longer in Jaime Lannister’s self-destruction, she had given him a dose of extremely tough love by saying she no longer wanted him in her life. She meant it but it crushed her heart to say the words, and she had hated herself the days following that for doing it. It was a gamble and while her job entailed much of it, if she had a choice, she wouldn’t. She had to, at that time. Jaime never hated her for it, and her gamble paid off. Yet she still worried that someday he would repay her—even when he had told her countless times he loved her, that no matter what he would still and always love her. She had a long list of worries and fears.

But she had also realized that as risky a gamble as it was, it was probably the bravest thing she did. If she could trust in Jaime like that, if she could be brave about Jaime like that, then why not again? It wasn’t courage that steeled you. It was fear. Meeting it head-on and realizing that if life called on you to be brave again, then you will be. This was the next moment.   
As Jaime pushed her jacket down her shoulders, her good sense, which she didn’t realize had deserted her, starting to come back. It told her to hit the breaks on her aching loins. It screamed at her to just yank the pin off the grenade. When the jacket fell with a thunk on the floor, she suddenly snatched herself away from Jaime’s kisses.

Or tried to. With her mouth unavailable, Jaime had begun attacking her neck and throat. Her stomach was a mess of crazed butterflies, livewires, and possibly, just very possible their—

“Jaime,” she planted her hands firmly on his shoulders and pulled him away. His heavy-lidded emerald eyes showed his desire and he didn’t look too pleased being interrupted. “Jaime, um, maybe we can do this later? There’s something I have to talk to you about.”

“Really?” He drawled, wrapping his arms around her waist and raking his teeth across her jaw. Gods, even that touch was so fucking potent, she thought, feeling herself drowning and her body had zero interest in fighting. “Can’t we do it later?”

Then they were kissing again. Jaime sucked noisily on her tongue, making her sweat and blush some more. As she sagged against him, he cupped her tits eagerly through the t-shirt. “ _Fuck above,_ ” he murmured against her lips. “I love your tits. Love, love, love them, hmm. . .” He squeezed them and she groaned. This time, her hands lowered to the hem of her top, eager to bare her skin, her breasts, to his touch.

“My lady wench,” he whispered hotly as he dragged her over his lap. She gasped, startled yet again at his strength. 

Overwhelmed, she let him tug her shirt over her head. Jaime’s look was sweltering and wicked as it dropped to her tits, small, round mounds high and firm on her chest. The sapphires framing her nipples emphasized her pale skin and freckles. 

Brienne turned her head to give him better access to her neck. Jaime happily obliged, praising her smooth skin, saying he loved tasting her freckles here. His stubbled cheek scraped against her chest and he rested his head there for a bit because she held him there.

“Your heart is beating very fast,” he said, looking up at her. His expression was curious.

Reminded again of what she had intended to, what she should do first, Brienne froze. Jaime felt her stiffen and ask, suddenly concerned, “Brienne, what’s the matter?”

Her eyes were big, nearly taking over half of her face. Blushing heavily, she covered her breasts with her arms. Jaime frowned, for he liked to see her. But she didn’t care, not right now. Quickly, she scrambled off his lap, her arms around herself, and stood up. Jaime was still fully dressed and looked both worried and pissed.

“Did I do something I have to apologize for again?” He demanded.

“First of all, when you apologize it’s because you are really sincere, not because you have to,” she retorted. 

“Noted, then. Why did you stop? I thought we were doing great.”

She shook her head. “I have to talk to you first.”

“You mean the Winterfest Eve live broadcast of Top of the Charts? Tyrion already told me. Don’t worry, I’ve been working out with Gregor. He says I don’t need extra sculpting but I said it wouldn’t hurt. Gotta show those fucking Wolboyz that I have buns of steel.”

Jaime had a very firm behind. She knew this for a fact. Resisting the images of just how fine a work of art his ass was, she stammered, “N-No. Um, that’s not it.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Remember what you offered to do a while back, when I asked you to not share it to me, not until I’m ready?”

Realizing what this was about, Jaime visibly tensed. “Yes.”

"And you know, right? Like, the answer."

"Wench, that's not something I would forget. "

 _Okay. He remembers._ Brienne started to speak then realized she could be less awkward about it. She grabbed her shirt from the floor and slipped it on, cocking an eyebrow at Jaime’s disappointed look.

“Just for a while,” she thought to explain. She grimaced as her tight nipples strained against the cotton. She caught the look of hunger and longing on Jaime’s face. He sighed.

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that.” 

Now that she was covered and a few inches from Jaime’s kisses and caresses, she could think a little more clearly. Just a little. Seven Hells, how on earth did she get any work done with a man who looked like Jaime, looking at her like that? 

“While you were in Essos, I did something.”

Jaime’s elegant jaw hardened. He looked to be at war with himself for a second before he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and looked at her.

“I swore,” he said, his voice low, “to love you no matter what choice you make, Brienne. That still stands.”

For a second, she wanted to soar to the ceiling then to the sky over his commitment. But the grave look he was wearing told her he had misunderstood. Gasping, she shook her head wildly.

“ _No!_ Jaime, no! No, I didn’t do—that! I mean, I know what I said. . .before. But I never—“ As she spoke, panicking, she turned to her bag and started to paw through the contents. Fuck. Why did she have her tablet in here? What the fuck was this case for—make-up? What the hell? And those fucking keys—she finally found the box of the rattle Sansa had given her. Wordlessly, she handed it to Jaime.

He frowned and looked inside. Taking out the rattle, he said, "Uh, I don't get it."

"What?"

"It's cute. I mean, what's this supposed to mean?"

Brienne's eyes rolled to the ceiling before she turned to her bag again. Her fingers found the protective plastic case and pulled it out. 

She stared at it, feeling a gentle kick in her heart and craziness in her stomach easing her finger rand down the precious image rendered in black and white before she held it out to Jaime. 

“I—I went to the doctor. I had to know. Like, I wanted one hundred percent accuracy. I know I should have brought you with me. It could have been a moment we shared, Jaime. But I needed to face this on my own. Do you understand?”

Jaime, staring at what she held, swallowed. “What’s that?”

Brienne bit her lip. “It’s a sonogram.”

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. And liking what he was seeing, judging from the brightening of his eyes and the slow, pleased smile tugging at the corners of his beautiful lips. He stared at the rattle in his hand then back to her. She continued to hold out the print-out to him until he reached for it, their fingers brushing. 

“A sonogram,” he echoed. “You mean—“

She nodded. Tears welled in her eyes. The livewires in her stomach felt like delicious tingles now. The butterflies were flying placidly.

Jaime took it from her and looked at it. The adoration and pure joy in his face was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.  
“You mean,” he spoke, a catch in his throat. He swallowed again and stared at it. He was beginning to sniffle. “You mean, wench, this—this—this is a photo of our baby? _Our baby?_ ”

The word fell from Brienne’s lips, the most glorious exhale ever.

“Yeah.”


	12. Confessions

The sonogram was attached to the fridge with a magnet. It made its way there hours after Jaime first saw it. He was so happy about Brienne finally acknowledging her pregnancy and trusting him that he couldn’t stop himself from fucking her, taking her with laughing zeal right on the piano. Random notes hummed, groaned and screeched as they did it right on top of the instrument. Brienne’s loud moans and cries were the perfect accompaniment. When he collapsed next to her, their legs hanging off the edge and dangling past the keys, he gasped that he should have recorded it because it was their fucking best composition ever. She flushed from head to toe and punched him weakly on the arm before burying her face on his shoulder. Then she whispered she loved him. It was enough for his cock to get hard and ready to fuck her again. So he did. 

In their bedroom was a repeat performance, but with only the rustling sheets and the headboard bumping repeatedly against the wall. Fucking Brienne was by far the best and most satisfying thing ever, hands down. But every time he had her, he just had to have her again. Knowing now for sure that his child was growing in her, his desire for the giant wench was greater than ever. It was a ceaseless kind of craving, similar to an addict’s but without the risk of self-destruction or any kind of danger. Everything about Brienne was irresistible and intoxicating. Her clean, wholesome scent. The astonishing beauty of her eyes. Her full, wide mouth. Constellation of freckles. Her big feet. Large hands. Broad nose. Crooked teeth. Altogether, they summed into a kind of beauty for his eyes and heart only. She really was the best thing about him. 

He left her snoring in bed, kissing her on the temple gently before hopping off. His back was a little sore from their session on the piano but man, he had never been so fucking alive. Everything good happening to him, all the positivity he was feeling was all due to Brienne. No doubt about it. He indulged in a glance at her, longing and smug, before heading off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast to be served in bed.

Holding the bowl of the pancake batter he was stirring, Jaime smiled at the sonogram. His child. Their baby. His head swam with images of Brienne blooming and thriving as a human grew in her. Some hollowness descended on his knees imagining her small tits rounding as they filled with milk. His mouth actually watered at just the thought, of Brienne with her beautiful blue eyes, splotchy, freckled skin and milk-heavy tits. No. Not tits. Breasts. 

_Brienne was going to have breasts!_

If he couldn’t resist her now, what more when she got round? He just hoped she could withstand getting fucked often. He could never resist those blue eyes darkening as lust overtook her body, the curves her strong, angular body would be softening to in the coming months. _Gods._ His cock was hard just thinking about it. There was no doubt that Brienne was going to be crankier and more surly pregnant yet he was practically giddy in anticipation. He looked forward to midnight raids for greasy fast-food. Could already envision how they would make up after she yelled at him for the constant ache in her back and her swollen ankles. Definitely naked and Brienne yelling at him to fuck her. 

But the picture that had him misty-eyed was that of a blond child with her blue eyes. The important thing was the child was healthy but he wished for a little girl. A little girl with a cap of unruly pale blond hair, sapphire blue eyes and freckles. Maybe she could have his nose instead of Brienne’s, his straight teeth rather than her mother’s big, crooked set. But even if she was a Brienne mini-me, for Jaime she was the most beautiful and precious child there would be. A daughter. Yes. A daughter who would know only of love and laughter. Maybe she would grow up to be potty-mouthed like her mother too. Tall with fists that could smash your jaw to bits. _Why not?_

He kissed the sonogram—he knew what it was but he couldn’t make sense of it until Brienne had to point out where their baby exactly was. She was a dot, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it but he hadn’t forgotten where since he was told. His eyes sparkled, his head once again full of images of a tall, freckled child who wielded an electric guitar as if it was a sword, slaying music and making the crowds bow to her. Happily, he went on to make the pancakes.

He was assembled the contents of the tray—two plates each with a tall stack of pancakes slathered generously with butter, drowning in syrup. No strawberries due to his allergy. Mugs of tea because Brienne had to be careful with her caffeine intake. As he picked it up from the table, his wench entered inside the kitchen, looking adorably bedraggled and well-fucked. Her short hair stood on their ends, she kept rubbing her eyes and she carried with her the scent of linen, his fading cologne and the musk of fucking. She blinked at Jaime in surprise upon seeing him with the tray.

“I was going to serve you breakfast in bed,” he explained, putting it down.

She blushed. “I was getting hungry.”

“Sorry. Were you waiting long?”

She shook her head, blushing some more. “I just. . .I was hungry.”

It was cute, really, how she was getting pinker and biting her swollen lip. She was dressed in his navy blue flannel robe, belted loosely so it wasn’t really closed. Jaime’s body tensed at seeing the beautiful contrast of her pale skin against the deep color of the robe. He wanted her. Again. Now. 

_Lannister, hold it. You fucked her twice on the piano. The mother of your child. If there’s anyone who’ll be back-broken from fucking it should be you, you horny twit._

Jaime smiled gently at her. How he loved her. He began setting the table.“Well, my lady, it appears we have a change in venue for the breakfast. Does the current location suit you?”

Brienne walked toward him and it was pleasing seeing her make careful steps. Oh, gods fucking yes. He had tried to be gentle with her until she snapped at him to take her the usual way. No problem. Fucking her hard and roughly was his favorite mode.   
She put her arms around him and he held her, smoothing her hair away from her thick, pale eyebrow. The pink on her face deepened because she could feel his cock prodding against her thigh. Jaime playfully nibbled her lower lip before kissing the tip of her nose. Then around her face. 

“How are you this morning?” He asked between kises. 

Her eyes twinkled before they closed as he leaned in to capture her sweet, full mouth. “Hungry, horny, happy.” 

“Are you? Really?” It had been hard for her to get here. Though Jaime meant it when he vowed to love her no matter the choice she made with regards to the baby, he still hoped she decided to keep the child. It was part of them, the best thing they have ever made. He understood it was her body and her rights came first but if she had, it would feel that she was not only refusing the child but rejecting him too, somewhat. 

He hadn’t been able to share with her his elation at discovering the results of the tests. Hadn’t told anyone, period. How he had wanted to tell Tyrion while they were in Essos, and also Loras. But he understood. Always he would understand Brienne. She came first. 

“I’m still scared,” she admitted, beginning to indulge by licking his lower lip and making him hot all over. “But not as scared as yesterday? Before I told you.”

“It’s alright, wench.” He assured her. “This is us. Together. All the way.”

She leaned against him then. She was an inch taller and broader so it was more like she was holding him to her. Despite being bigger and stronger than him, she was also more vulnerable. A lot more vulnerable. To the world she was tough, unyielding, demanding, protective and harsh. With him, she was fragile and afraid. Neither side was more true than the other. It was all Brienne. 

Her arms tight around his shoulders, she whispered, “Thank you so much for being patient, Jaime.”

“I love you,” he told her. “Of course. Anytime.”

She pulled away a little but remained in his arms. “You’re too kind, you know? People hardly see it. But I’m sure you were frustrated a few times.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I was more worried about you. I didn’t doubt that you’ll come around but you had to be given time.”

She returned her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, Jaime. Really. Thank you.” 

They hugged for a few more moments, not a word passing between them before he reluctantly pulled back and reminded her to eat. She flashed him a look of such gratitude that he vowed to do things for her just to get her to look at him like that again. Seriously, how could anyone not want to see such a sweet expression on her over and over?

So he pulled out the chair for her and with dramatic flourish, draped a checked napkin on her lap. Mimicking a Volantean accent, he drawled, presenting the pancake, “Might I eenterest de lady wid pancakes?”

Playing along, she giggled. “Gourmet pancakes?”

“From scratch.” 

“Even better!”

It was good he made a tall stack of pancakes for each of them. Brienne easily sawed through hers, proclaiming her appreciation with finger licks and smacking lips. She frowned at the tea, however, but her smile lit up the room when he offered to put honey in it for her. 

She offered to do the dishes and Jaime promptly ordered her to get her ass back down on the chair. “The mother of my child is to luxuriate and just do nothing for the day,” he told her, kissing her on the lips. Hmm. She tasted like maple syrup. Jaime swooped in for a deeper taste.

Brienne’s tongue caressed him back and her moan was so filthy it should only be for his ears. Pulling back, her eyes big, she stuttered, “I’m—I’m going to be a mother.”

He put a hand on her freckled thigh bared by the slit of her robe. “Are you freaking out, wench?” He asked easily. “You can, you know. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I just. . .this is dumb but I was so consumed about having a baby I didn’t realize that by having a baby I’m going to be a mother.” She sounded stunned and thoughtful. 

“No, no. It’s not dumb or stupid or anything bad. Things are changing. I’m freaking out too.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “You?”

“Why wouldn’t I? This is nothing like selling a hit single, wench. It’s a baby.” 

She blinked at him and nodded. There was still uncertainty in her eyes but there was a light there that made his heart feel full. “Yeah. A baby.” Her smile was soft. “A baby with you.”

“Yeah.”

 

It was a wonderful day of just lazing around, sleeping, eating take-out, fucking. Jaime hadn’t realized just how punishing the promotions for ‘Winterfest Is All Around’ was until half a day passed. The last couple of weeks have been full of interviews, performances, guestings, photo shoots, meetings. He and Brienne had a fight. She broke her hand defending him. Tywin started reaching out to both his sons, although there was much left to do. Brienne was pregnant. Fuck topping the Winterfest charts. He didn’t care about making the Wolfboyz weep. Brienne was pregnant. He had little care for the world outside their door. Only Brienne and the baby was his world.

Though he would do everything possible for this day to last for another, and so on, real life returned. Brienne caught on the melancholic touch in his mood by suggesting they head out, go for a walk, have lunch somewhere and raid the bookstore for ‘baby knowledge.’ She pulled him off the bed by the ankle, both of them laughing as he finally sat up. 

Jaime hissed from the cold air that slapped him right in the face as they stepped out of the house. They were dressed in heavy coats, his a long, classic tan still as good as the day he bought it nearly a decade ago while Brienne’s was short and cream, with big buttons in front and belted at the waist. He got behind the wheel. This was what sucked about living in private, gated villages. You were cut off from the rest of the town. You had to drive to get to town. Brienne’s hand on his knee made the drive easier and when he announced he wanted a kiss at every traffic light she obliged, cheeks pink and her sapphire eyes bright.  
During one of the stops, Brienne turned on the radio then let out a yell before turning it up. As Jaime winced upon hearing   
himself sing ‘Winterfest Is All Around,’ Brienne demanded, “Alright. You are listening to this and you will believe what I’ve been telling you and telling you!”

“Wench, come on,” he complained.

“Jaime, please. You have to listen to yourself. So it’s not Kingsguard. It may not be you. But you sound blood fantastic and it’s time you know.” She turned up the volume some more.

“That’s too loud!”

“Listen!”

_“—I know it’s Wintefest, I always will---“_

“Seven fucking hells!”

“Jaime, come on!”

_“—“There’s no beginning, there’ll be no end. ‘Cause this Winterfest, you can depend. . .”_

The light changed, leaving Jaime stuck to listen to the rest of the horrendous song. Years of training, jamming, going against his Father, pouring out his heart and soul on every song, had come down to this: a fucking cover of the silliest song of all time.   
Seeing the distress on his face, Brienne urged him, “Jaime, please.”

He glanced at her then back to the road. The song was shit. It was sold gold but it was still stinking shit. But it was important for Brienne that he knew how good he sounded. Alright. He could be objective. He sounded awesome. Didn’t sound like the kind of man tortured to sing it, as he felt back in the recording studio.

_“It’s written in the snow  
Oh everywhere I go,  
If you really love me, love me,  
Come on and let it snow  
Come on and let it snow  
Come on and let it  
Come on and let it  
Come on and let it—_

 

Mercifully, the deejay’s voice cut through the last few moments of the song. Brienne cursed loudly, glaring at the radio while Jaime put a placating hand on her knee, telling her to listen.

“And there you have it, folks. Our new number one song, ‘Winterfest Is All Around” by the Kingslayer himself, Jaime Lannister. Will be he remain on top until Winterfest Day or will the Wolfboyz come howling from behind? Will our favorite lion get bitten on the ass? Stay tuned.”

“What do you think?” Brienne asked him as his eyes scanned the street for an available slot to park in. “Tell me.”

“What do I think? I’d burn every copy of that song if I could,” Jaime grumbled as he cruised down the street. “Wench, look around for what strikes you for lunch. Hopefully it’s not too far from where I park.”

“You’re being undeservedly harsh,” she said with a sigh.

“Do you want me to say I think I sounded good?”

“I wanted you to accept that as cheesy as a song is, you sing it like a god.” 

“Oh.” He grinned at her naughtily. “Really. Like a god, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Half a god. Hey, pull over here. The Dothraki place is just up ahead.”

Grinning, he slipped between the cars, pulling between them smoothly and only backing a little before it was perfect. Brienne unsnapped her belt while Jaime braked the car. As soon as she was free, he suddenly pulled her from her seat and onto his lap. Something hard smacked, she cried out and he quickly kissed her in apology.

Then he lowered his seat, having her stretched out fully over him. Oof. The wench was heavy but damn, she felt great and warm. He palmed her under the coat, frowning at feeling her skirt so his hand lowered again until it was touching her firm backside.  
Her eyes big, she demanded, “Jaime, what the fuck?”

He shook his head. “What the fuck are you doing with panties on?”

“Seriously? Jaime, we are _not_ going to fuck here!”

“Why not? I sound like a god, you said. I figured that after you punished me forcing me to listen to that fucking abomination I can get some,” he said teasingly, removing her blue scarf to suck at her throat.

“Abomination! Why--” 

He pulled her head down, opened her mouth with one, hard kiss and pushed his tongue past her parted lips. Her moan filled the car and his cock leaped in his jeans.

“No, no,” she murmured between their heated kisses. “Not an abomination.”

“Hmm. Really?” He sucked on her wet lower lip.

“People won’t buy it if it was.”

He looked in her eyes before claiming her mouth again. “People just want to see me naked.”

“Can you blame them?”

“I knew it,” he said triumphantly as her hair fell over him as she licked his neck. “You think I’m sexy. You think I’m gorgeous. You want to fuck me.” He murmured, reaching up to kiss her some more.

“Are you really going to fuck the mother of your unborn child in a car parked in a busy street?” Brienne hissed.

“You don’t want to?”

Brienne smirked and sat up, but made sure to slouch a bit so she won’t hit the ceiling. “You don’t have problems with public nudity, Jaime, but I do. And I’m hungry!” She slid off him and went back to her seat. She patted and flattened her hair, shot him a glare then exited the car.

Jaime sighed. “Well, what do you know. No baby yet and the sex is already over.”

Brienne was waiting for him on the sidewalk, shaking her head at him but not looking annoyed. He offered his arm and she took it. 

“You haven’t told me what you think of yourself singing the song. And no, Jaime. You’re not going to make me forget it by kissing me here.” She said when he shot her a smoldering look. She was blushing. Her cheeks were not red from the cold.

But he paused to put his arms around her waist, ignoring those walking behind them who suddenly had to side-step and giving them dirty looks. Brienne continued to look at him expectantly, her cheeks continuing to flare. Going on a hunch, he said, “It’s really important to you that I like myself singing this, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is but more for you.” She replied. “I know you hate having to make the deal, Jaime. I hate that it’s the deal we have but we’ve been making it work. You’ve been doing to promotion circuit like a pro but when you sing it live. . .you’re still great but I can tell your heart isn’t in it. You’re like,” her forehead wrinkled as she scrambled for an apt description. “Singing mechanically.”

“Mechanically.”

She just looked at him. 

“I listened to the song,” he said defensively.

“I had to basically force you. Jaime, I have no doubt this song will be number one. I think the consensus is it’s beneath you but again, it’s all we have right now. We make the best of it so we can shop around for a better deal or, better yet, Kingsguard gets back together. But when this song finishes at the top of the charts on Winterfest and you perform it live, I just worry people will see what. . .I see.”

“And what do you see?”

She took a deep breath. “I see that you’re in pain. Don’t deny it, please. All these stunts, all this fucking we’ve been doing—“  
He grinned and to his pleasure, she smiled back, blushing. 

“You have to realize we’ve been fucking quite a lot?”

“Brienne, ever since I discovered you have nipple piercings and that tattoo, fucking you has been my top priority.”

_“But everyday?”_

He chuckled and pulled her close. “Not everyday. We didn’t fuck when had that fight and when I was in Essos.”

“Only during those times.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No. But I wonder if you fuck me to forget, I don’t know,” she shrugged helplessly. “You’re definitely not compensating but I think you’re running away.”

“Running away.”

She looked at him right in the eye. “Yes.”

Jaime chewed on his lip, having acquired her habit. She continued to stand in his arms, just looking at him, searching his face. Idly, he watched people walking past, knowing he had an answer somewhere but wondering if there were words to make them real.

“When you left that night—your engagement—I realized how I felt about you. I have loved you for a long time, Brienne, but I didn’t realize it until that night. It was a blow, you leaving me and I wanted to hate you. Instead, I sought to make myself the best that I can be. You were engaged so I thought it was pointless and it was a gamble leaving for the Quiet Isle. I mean, what if Oberyn managed to marry you in a couple of weeks?”

Brienne flushed. She would never tell him how close to the truth he was.

“That was my hope. I had to make myself the best person I can be to deserve you. I came back, you gave me that unforgettable show in the tub—you haven’t done it again, wench. I should take a video of you mastur—“

“Jaime!” She hissed, looking around in panic. He laughed and kissed here on the cheek before turning serious.

“You do owe me.”

“Focus, will you?”

“I am. Have been from the moment I returned from the Isle. I’ve been so focused in being the best I can be, the best singer I can be, to deserve you. In the midst of all those negotiations with the Second Sons, then finding ourselves on that very shitty deal that you tried to talk me out of but I still took, I realized how wrong I was. Singing is not the best part of being me.”

Brienne looked confused. “What are you talking about? Jaime, come on. You have to—“

“Let me finish, wench. Let me finish,” he said, putting a hand on her arm to stop her from protesting even more. She really was the sweetest, his loudest and most committed cheerleader. If she had been his Queen and he one of her soldiers, he’d go to war for her over and over. Just as long as he got to fuck her.

“I fuck you often not to run away. Maybe at first but I fuck you because it feels so unbelievable being inside you. Nothing comes close to how it feels being inside you. I fuck you a lot because I should have been fucking you years and years ago. I’m making up for lost time. Of course, that’s why we have this situation,” he said, running his palm on her stomach and enjoying her gentle smile. “I didn’t plan it but it’s the best consequence out of all this. I fuck you because being with you is when I feel I’m the best I can be. Not onstage. Not singing another hit. Wench,” he took her hand and kissed it chastely although his gaze promised to burn off her clothes. “You are the best part of me. You’ve always seen me so clearly, you know how flawed I am yet here you are. I’m not fit to touch you but I will anyway.” More passionately, he repeated, “You are the best part of me, Brienne. You’re my life.”

She shook her head and he nodded, kissing her knuckles more firmly.

“Yes you are. You are the reason for all the good that’s happening to me. Never forget, wench. You are the best part of me.”   
She would never believe him, the wonderful giantess. She was too good, too humble, too much of everything good that he didn’t deserve. But he loved her with everything he had. Would love her more and more, tell her everyday so she would never forget. They had lost so much time. 

And Jaime Lannister intended to make every minute with her count. 

Flushed, surprised and looking at her boots, she stammered, “I-I—I, um, Jaime. . .”

“What?” He cupped her cheek.

“I love you.”


	13. Love and Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place on Winterfest Eve. A lot happens here.
> 
> Like, A LOT.

On the afternoon of Winterfest Eve, Jaime and Brienne hosted a dinner for family, friends and colleagues. It was a last-minute decision that promised disaster in inexpert hands but Brienne was a pro in organizing parties for five hundred people at a moment’s notice. Their guest list was less than twenty but the required tasks were still daunting. 

For a more intimate yet still grand feel, the party was at Jaime’s house. A small portion of Casterly Estate’s staff was sent here to prepare the house and the food. Jaime thumbed through his mother’s old, yellowed collection of Winterfest recipes and turned them over to the kitchen staff but he was insistent on preparing the main course, cider roast turkey. It was something Joanna used to make. Jaime knew how to cook but this was the first time he will be taking this on. Brienne offered to help but he told her that when he was growing up, his mother didn’t just supervise the kitchen preparations but also made the main course. 

This left Brienne with the responsibility of overseeing that the house was ready. Nothing much was needed to do. She had put up decorations a few days ago so it was more of tidying up a bit and making sure the corners were even and there was ample space for mingling and dancing. Jaime had two pianos—the baby grand in the basement which he used when composing, and the upright one in the living room. She had this moved away from the wall and to the middle of the room so people could surround it and join in on the singing of carols. They wouldn’t be short of piano players tonight; aside from Jaime, Rhaegar and Sandor also knew how to play the instrument. 

Amidst all these preparations, Jaime somehow managed to drag Brienne to the bedroom. She hissed and growled, her face the color of beets as her body contradicted every protest out of her as it pushed and pressed toward Jaime. At the top of the stairs, Jaime wrapped a hand around her nape and pulled her down to his mouth. In full view of the servants, he shoved his tongue past her thick lips. They politely looked away, smiling and shaking their heads at the passionate couple. Every reason that clouded Brienne’s mind as to why they shouldn’t be fucking right now drifted away. Jaime pulled away slightly, smirking at her droopy eyes and swollen mouth. She staggered against him, having forgotten what legs were for. There were voices and thumps all around, and as her mind scrambled to make sense of them, he took advantage by pulling her the rest of the way to the bedroom.

At the door, the world shrank to only that of Jaime’s arms, his body, his sinful and delicious kisses. She was hot and desperate, frustrated and she grunted that he was taking too long undressing her. His smile was that of pure delight as she tackled him to bed. Then it became a race on who will be naked first. 

Since she had confirmed her pregnancy and Jaime’s confession, their relationship was more intimate and deeper. Only days have passed since but the changes were already evident. Brienne was still getting used to the idea of becoming a mother but she only had to look at Jaime and remember how he loved her for her anxiety to ebb away. In a few weeks, they would be going back to the doctor, this time together, to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. She couldn’t bring herself to think of the life inside her merely as ‘it,’ however. Jaime, on the other hand, was convinced they were going to have a daughter.

Brienne gasped and moaned as Jaime kissed and playfully nibbled at the taut flesh of her tummy, nuzzled the thick hairs of her cunt with a growl, sucked at the firm flesh of her inner thighs. He was more excited than her about their baby but he was used to the idea longer than she was. Every day, she marveled at the little changes happening to her body. Jaime tended to exaggerate, though. He proclaimed her tits were getting so big that she would probably two bra cup sizes bigger by the time their daughter was born. His voice was laced with both hope and dread because it meant another layer of clothes before having her. 

The mirror showed that yes, there was definite swelling in her breasts but she had to squint. That was it. Curves so slight that only familiarity with her body would know. But she was convinced her aureoles and nipples were getting big. They were getting so fucking sensitive that sometimes she removed the piercings but it was still there, the tenderness. His lips hungrily clamped around the plump tip, sucking wetly, loudly, gave her comfort. "Please," she begged, and bit her lip as his obliging kisses intensified.

She caught her breath as Jaime looked down at her, looking like a golden lion with the most wicked intent. Her cheeks and neck were flushed from the way he was looking at her. They still fucked everyday but now they were doing it as much as five times a day. Now more than ever, he would always find an excuse to touch her, and it wasn’t an innocent, sweet touch. Oh, no. Jaime took every opportunity to cup her breasts or slide his hand between her legs. Just yesterday, while at the bookstore browsing, she got the shock of her life when he suddenly sidled up to her, looked around then promptly cupped her cunt. It was mortifying, shocking, _most improper_ but try as she did to protest or tell him off, she couldn’t. _She didn’t want to_. He felt too good that she regretted wearing panties. She was so turned on and tensed when he didn’t take it further that she ended up begging him to pull over by the side of the road on the way home. He thought she was sick. She told him to fuck her. They did it in the backseat, her head hanging out and Jaime thrusting so hard into her she feared they would topple the car on its side. 

Her fingers buried in his thick, soft, golden locks, her eyes getting glazed for a moment at watching the gorgeous play of light on it. Then she was looking his eyes, hot, darkening emeralds. 

Her head fell back against the pillows as his cock began to enter her. He gritted his teeth while she panted his name as inch by inch he went in, the motions of his hips careful. She liked a serious pounding, to be fucked with raging fury. Heatedly, she begged him his to do this, her whispers in his ear making his cock harden impossibly so. She flattened her feet on the bed and began to move, indicating with her hips the pace she craved. He grinned at her blush, groaned, “Fucking right. _Always_ fucking right, wench,” and obeyed her. 

Brienne had never been loud when fucking until Jaime. She lost all control once he kissed her, her brain was mush as soon as his arms were around her. His cock just plain undid her. It made her ready for everything, it emboldened her—just like when she hesitantly stood outside the doctor’s office then went inside, chin up and shoulders back. Just ready to face and take what happens next. In their bed, with him gasping above her, she easily abandoned herself to the hard rhythm of his body, a composition only for her, pleasure only to be found with her. His filthy whispers in her ear of the many other things he would be doing to her, that they would do, his cock going in an out, in and out, brought the best sensations, potent and powerful. 

A cry spilled from her throat and he was quick to muffle it with a kiss, for he didn’t forget there were servants and only a ceiling and a door separated them. He was greedy about these. She gave herself to his kisses, her body rocking furiously against him as she raced towards the orgasm he was cruelly dangling before her, a treat to a starved animal. She came, grunting against his tongue, tearing her mouth away from him to groan and whimper, chasing her next breath. He bit her on the neck as he came, her cunt rippling as he spilled inside her.

Despite people about and with time not really on their side, they cuddled afterwards. The pink on Brienne’s skin deepened with Jaime’s hand flat and firm on her cunt. “Had to keep the baby warm,” he explained to her cheekily when she asked him about it yesterday. She had laughed. 

“Do you really think I sound good singing that song?” He asked her suddenly. 

In a few hours, the Winterfest number one single would be announced on the radio. It was risky having a party for it but Jaime decided that number one or not, there were more important things to celebrate. But Brienne knew him well. Yes, their baby was the most important in the world but his career was too, even when he denied it. 

“I mean,” he continued, his hand tightening on her cunt as he shifted closer to her. “If you could be objective?”

She couldn’t resist teasing him. “You mean I’m to be objective when your hand is between my legs?” Her voice was dreamy.

But Jaime was always better with words. “Where else should it be?”

Her cunt was soft, pliable and soaked, still. He easily slipped three fingers inside. As she clenched instinctively and whined in pleasure, he whispered, “I hate to say it, wench, but I think it would be prudent that you wear underwear tonight. Just to keep me tame.”

She squirmed, letting out a shaky laugh. “Gods, you.”

“So?”

“Jaime, I can’t think when you do that—oh. _Oh._ Gods. _Jaime._ ”

“You’re going to be mommy, you know. Better learn how to multi-task. You can think while I’m fucking you like this.”

“Asshole,” she gasped, her forehead scrunched.

”Gonna take some maneuvering fucking you like this and back there--"

“No!” She managed to muster enough strength to slap him on the hip. Howling with laughter, he mercifully pulled his fingers out. She breathed in relief though she intended to collect later. She turned to face him, putting her chin on her fist. Disheveled and pink, her eyes heavy-lidded, she looked very enticing. His lady wench, indeed.

“Jaime, I’m your biggest fan. But it doesn’t blind me. You know that when I think something sucks I’ll tell you right away.”

He nodded. “When you sing ‘Winterfest Is All Around,’ yes, it is cheesy but you’re able to infuse it with your special Jaime Lannister touch. You sound like a lion ready to claim his kingdom, no matter how little he has. And you will.”

As he looked at her thoughtfully, doubt still on his face, she asked the question she had been avoiding to ask but knew had to.  
“How could you have so much faith in me in accepting our baby and the changes she brings to us and have so little in yourself?”

He kissed her on the shoulder. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It’s faith. They’re the same.”

She dropped down beside him, looking at his face. Yesterday, he had shot the video of his ‘live’ performance. The radio’s partner TV station would be playing the video if his song hit number one. Otherwise, it would be the ‘live’ video of the Wolfboyz’s performance. Last she heard, Ramsay Bolton’s nose was on the mend but it was still swollen. Brienne had no regrets.  
But Jaime made the strange request to have Tyrion accompany him to the studio. Brienne decided that since his promise to perform nude was still a sticky issue between them, he did it out of consideration for her feelings. 

Well, now, it was his feelings on the table. 

“I don’t want you thinking so little of yourself because of this song,” she said. “Right now it’s a setback. But it’s going to be the way towards bigger and better things. I believe in you, Jaime I always believe in you.”

Jaime sighed and played with her hair. “You really are the best part of me.”

“Silly man.”

She kissed him, pouring in it all the love she felt for him and the life they would be having. He pulled her over him so she was lay fully on his body. His cock was hard between them again. 

To her surprise, Jaime suddenly urged her away from him. She bit her lip, worried.

“Wench, I never told you why I suddenly came back. No. Don’t move. Stay where you are. I love it when you’re like this.”

She blushed but made a mental note.

“I dreamed of you.”

Puzzled, she echoed, “You dreamed of me.”

“I was in the dark. I didn’t know where I was but there was this. . .loss. A kind of loss that was unlike anything. Then suddenly there was light, just a little, but there you were. Then the feeling of loss started to disappear the closer I came to you. You were coming for me too.”

He paused. She traced his jaw with her fingertips. “Go on.”

“I touched you. I only had to touch you for a bit but I immediately forgot how it was to be lost. It was a loss of not being with you. I knew then that I had to come back. See, I thought Oberyn had married you. I made a huge ruckus about having to leave as soon as I woke up. There weren’t any flights so I had to rough it. Sometimes being a Lannister comes in handy and I got on a cargo plane. It was the only one there. I had to come back to you. I didn’t have my phone, couldn’t remember your number or Tyrion’s. I hoped with everything I had Oberyn hadn’t made you his. Then I found your house dark but with music—my music.” He smiled and she blushed again. “Then I saw you. Getting off to my song.”

“Oh, gods,” she groaned, pushing her face down to his shoulder. His body shook with laughter, causing ripples through her and for their bodies to rub sensuously.

“That was the best welcome present I ever had,” he whispered.

She raised her head to look at him. What would have happened if she agreed to Oberyn’s ultimatum? Or if he had agreed to her request that night? She shivered, realizing how close she came to losing Jaime forever. 

“Wench?” He saw the shifting expression on her face. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath and smiled at him. No. There wouldn’t be any point in confirming that yes, they would be forever lost to each other if not for his actions, if not for Oberyn questioning her offer. They already knew how it was to be without each other. 

Now they had to remember how it was to be finally together. 

Her lips brushed against his. “Nothing. I just love you, is all. ‘I always will,’” she added, unable to resist singing a little.

Jaime groaned but held her close. “I can’t fucking believe you just quoted that abominable song to me.”

Then he rolled over and had her again.

 

 

The guests started arriving an hour later. Sandor and Sansa were first, of course. Though Sansa looked ready to pop, she moved easily, gracefully. Hugs and kisses were exchanged between the couples. 

Tywin and Tyrion arrived next, with Bronn. Brienne extended the invitation to Bronn too. He grinned at her cast a curious, sidelong glance at Jaime and she nodded. “Glad you finally did it, lass,” he told her as they hugged. Brienne wondered if he wouldn’t mind being a nanny to their baby when it came. It sure would be one hell of an interesting experience.

Tywin looked at Brienne from head to toe, nodded to himself then said, gravely, “You look fetching, dear.” Then he made her blush by adding, “And if I may so, ripe.” He nodded again, looking at her breasts then up at her face.

“Uh,” she said, shifting her weight awkwardly. Jaime rolled his eyes at his father while from behind, Tyrion mimed stabbing him in the leg. “Thank you?”

“You look magnificent in red,” he continued. Brienne was wearing a wrap dress in deep cranberry, with lipstick to match. To Jaime, he said, “I trust you are well?”

“Of course,” Jaime retorted.

“Sorry about that,” Jaime said as Tywin walked away. Tyrion was following him, still making motions of stabbing him in the leg, to everyone’s amusement. “But if it’s any consolation, you do have awesome tits, wench.”

“Fucking Seven Hells, they’re not that big yet!” 

“I will say a sentence I never thought I’d say,” Jaime said with a wince. “But I think Father is a breast man.”

“Thanks a lot. Still, he shouldn’t stare.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him.”

Rhaegar was next to arrive, with his sister Daenerys and brother Viserys. The Targaryen siblings had ethereal, blond, purple-eyed looks that drew stares wherever they were. Tyrion, walking past as Rhaegar helped Daenerys out of her coat, smiled at her.  
She smiled back at him and he approached her. Jaime and Brienne exchanged a glance and quickly introduced them to each other. They have met before, it turned out, but this was the first time they saw each other after so many years. 

Daario arrived shortly, surprisingly without a date. Jaime had been taken aback when Brienne suggested they invite him. “He’s the only one in that company who looked at me in the eye. The other two could get fucked in the ass for all I care,” she said. He and Jaime shook hands. Daario surprised Brienne with a small gift and she kissed him on the cheek in appreciation. 

The next to arrive was Stannis Baratheon. The relationship between him and Jaime had cooled due to the pack of bubble gum he sent him. Nevertheless, Jaime was persuaded by Brienne to invite him. His date, to everyone’s surprise, was Melisandre, the TV host who was a Kingsguard and Jaime Lannister supporter. Brienne tensed a little. Melisandre was nice but she was still a member of the press. Jaime, sensing her discomfort, put his arms around her from behind and kissed her on the shoulder, casting a significant look at Melisandre. The redhead nodded and announced that she did no work during Winterfest. “Everything that will happen here,” she announced, “shall remain within these walls.”

Stannis and Jaime sized each other up. Jaime realized that with Brienne in his arms, it was easy to be a bigger man although if she weren’t, he would no doubt drag his bandmate out in the cold and give him the ass-kicking he deserved. Jaime offered his hand. Stannis, stunned, stared at it in confusion before shaking it. Their relationship will be strained for a while, that was clear.  
The doorbell rang shortly afterward. Jaime opened the door and grinned. There stood Jorah Mormont, his smile huge and his arm around his wife, Barbrey. “Kingslayer,” Jorah announced, engulfing Jaime in a bear hug. Brienne rushed toward them. Barbrey’s smile for her was fond and motherly and kissed her on the cheek. 

“Still the woman with the best legs I know,” Jorah said to Brienne, kissing her loudly on the cheek. As Brienne blushed, she smacked him on the shoulder.

“Not in front of your wife, you old fart!”

“Just as long as that is all you know, my dear,” Barbrey told Jorah then shaking her head at Brienne. They knew that Jorah was just being playful, and he was unusually devoted to her. Jaime pulled Brienne to his side.

“That she does,” he said. “But only I get to leer at them. Or I’ll steal your wife away.”

“Oh, to have a young man—“ Barbrey said in a singsong voice as Jorah glared at her then at Jaime.

“Never put ideas like that in my wife’s head.”

“I don’t have to.” Jaime and Barbrey smiled at each other. He winked at her.“She thinks well on her own.”

Still torturing Jorah, Barbrey continued, laughing, “I would love a young man.”

“Come on now,” Jorah took her by the hand. To Brienne, he said, “If your man takes my wife, then you’re mine.”

“Fucking old goat,” Jaime muttered before Brienne kissed him on the lips.

The last guest to arrive was Davos Seaworth. Brienne let out a cry as she dashed toward her mentor, the man who had taught her everything and was the closest she had to a father. He had been the one to warn her about Oberyn. Davos nearly fell from the force of her body hitting him. He laughed against her cheek and Brienne kissed him happily. Jaime looked on, waited until they parted, before he strode forward, offering his hand.

“This is Jaime,” Brienne told Davos. “I love him. Davos Seaworth taught me everything I know. I owe him a lot.”

“Fucking nonsense, that, much like the handshake you’re offering.” Davos declared before startling Jaime and yanking him for a hug. Brienne smiled happily.

There was much laughter and conversation throughout the meal. Jaime’s cider roast turkey was a hit, as well as the accompanying dishes, the delicious wine. Sitting at opposite ends of the table, Brienne looked on happily as Jaime laughed and teased their guests. It was wonderful seeing him so relaxed, more himself. He felt her eyes on him and he raised a glass to her, making her cheeks bloom pink. Perhaps it was the delicious meal but she would much rather it was their baby causing a flutter in her, making her think of faerie wings, magic and beauty.

It was a smart move to have the piano in the center of the room as the guests gathered around it after the meal, some still with their dessert plates, others with wine. Jaime was only too happy to let Rhaegar have the bench and bang out Winterfest carols as well as popular tunes. Tyrion sat beside Rhaegar, a bottle of wine in his hand, much to Tywin’s disapproval. But the frown on his face vanished when Sandor threw an arm around his shoulders and yelled at him to join in the singing. His other arm was around Stannis, who looked stiff at first before he relaxed. 

While others were gathered around the piano, in another section of the room, some people were dancing. Jorah and Barbrey only had eyes for each other, and were dancing slowly despite the lively, fast music playing. Bronn and Sansa were dancing too, more carefully, and the frustration on her face was evident. 

“Spin me,” she demanded to Bronn.

Bronn shook his head. “Princess, if I do that, you’re bound to get sick and your husband will kill me.”

“I’m pregnant. I’m not fucking made of glass!”

Daario and Daenerys were on the couch, talking to themselves and sipping wine. Davos walked up to Jaime and Brienne during a pause in the singing and asked if he could invite her to dance. 

“I’ll be back,” Brienne told Jaime.

“I love you,” he said and they kissed.

Brienne floated toward Davos and they danced. 

“He makes you happy?” He asked as he spun her her.

“Immensely,” she answered. “I’ve missed you.”

“As have I, sweet girl. I’m glad you’re well. You look well.” He nodded at Jaime. “I can tell, you know. He worships the ground you walk on.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a fucking greeting card.”

“Such language,” Davos joked as he drew her close and rested his cheek against hers. “Wonder where you learned that?” 

“I have something to tell you.” Brienne whispered. Her heart was racing. It was a decision she and Jaime made together. Smiling, she took his hand and placed it on her stomach.

“What’s this?” He asked, frowning. As she continued to smile coyly, his face cleared and he chuckled. “Oh. Fuck. Really?”

She nodded.

He glanced at Jaime, who was having a good-natured argument with Sandor about the proper way to sing a song. “He’s going to do right by you?”

“Davos, please. Come on.”

“Well, I’m old-fashioned.”

“We love each other and a child together is a deeper commitment than something on paper.” But someday, she thought. It caused a warm, golden flutter in her again. It was a sure thing.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” He nodded at Jaime. “Something tells me he’ll always do what you want. He’s crazy about you. No man can be that happy by himself.”

As the night wore on, the activity began to die down. Anticipating that their guests might be too tired or sleepy to drive back, they made rooms available in the house, as well as toiletries and a change of clothes. But none of their guests were thinking of leaving nor of changing into pajamas. But they did sit on the living room, the couples together, of course, while the singletons, due to alcohol, sat with others but were relaxed. They were listening to the radio which would be announcing the Winterfest number one hit in a few minutes.

“Daario,” Brienne picked up her head from Jaime’s chest. “Whatever the result, thank you.”

“You took a gamble,” Jaime told him. “I’ll always respect that.”

“You’ve exceeded our expectations,” Daario raised a glass to them. “Thanks to you as well.” 

“I believe this merits a toast,” Stannis, who had only a few words this evening, startled everyone with his announcement. “Let’s all raise our glass.” Looking at Jaime, he said, “To Jaime Lannister. May you ever roar.”

“To Jaime!” Everyone said, raising their glasses.

“Thank you.” Brienne could tell he was moved by Stannis’ unexpected gesture. “But there’s someone in the room who deserves this more than I do.” He smiled at her. “Brienne, you’ve always stood by me, pushing me to do better, ordering me never to give up.” Everyone laughed and Brienne blushed. He raised his glass. “We’re all in this room because of you. Happy Winterfest, sweetheart. You’re the best.”

“To Brienne!” Everyone cheered.

Suddenly, Tyrion bellowed. He rose from the couch and ran to the radio, turning up the volume. People quieted down.  
“And here we are at the end of our Winterfest countdown,” Robert Fury was saying. “If you’ve been listening, you know that it’s been a fucking head-to-head fight between that fucker Jaime Lannister and the howling sons of bitches Wolfboyz—“

Tywin shot to his feet, displeased. “What did he say?” He bellowed.

“Not now!” Tyrion exclaimed, shushing him as Robert Fury prattled on.

“—so, you cunts, the Winterfest number one is---I don’t fucking believe it.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Well, I suppose it’s better than those entitled little wolves. The Winterfest number one is ‘Winterfest Is All Around’ by that fucking kingslayer Jaime Lannister!”

Brienne was the first to scream, driving Jaime to cover his ear protectively. As shouts and screams rang throughout the house, the couple beamed at each other and kissed sweetly. It was loud and the news caused a sudden surge of energy in everyone to get on their feet and talk excitedly. Jaime put his ear close to Brienne, who was saying something to him but couldn’t be heard because it was loud and pandemonium all around. Someone turned up the volume some more and Jaime singing ‘Winterfest Is All Around’ filled the room. 

Tyrion, however, was racing for the TV set, Daario hot on his heels. Jaime was now yelling at Brienne to speak louder. 

“Someone turn down that fucking music!” Sandor shouted as Tyrion flicked on the TV and quickly found the channel that would be playing the broadcast Jaime had shot.

As the music came to a sudden halt and voices died down, Brienne’s voice bounced off the walls.

“---so fucking glad about the baby!”

Jaime's eyes got big and Brienne, realizing what just happened, covered her mouth. Heads turned to them, momentarily forgetting Jaime crooning from the big screen flat-screen TV.

The crowd parted to make way for Tywin, who was heading for the couple. Brienne whimpered and pressed her face on Jaime’s chest and he held her. Her heart pounded hard against his chest as she heard Tywin approaching. When he stopped, she swore her heart did too. 

“What baby?”

Jaime held her tight. Brienne began to sweat.

And because the moment had to be more awkward, Jaime’s cock hardened. He groaned. Brienne felt perfect against him like this, but on the other hand, they were in a roomful of people that included his father. _Seven Bloody Hells!_

“Really?” She hissed in his ear. 

He pressed his lips to her temple as he replied. “I’m holding you. What do you expect?”

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“Do you think—“

“What?”

“Time to face the music?”

He looked at her, ignoring Tywin and everyone else. “Only if you’re ready.”

Brienne kissed him, drawing strength from the warmth of his lips. Jaime kissed her back, groaning. Then she was pulling away and rising to her feet. He went with her, holding her hand.

On the screen, Jaime started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Should I or do you want to—“ Jaime asked Brienne. She shook her head.

“I want you to, my love.”

Jaime grinned happily at her, thrilled at what she had just called him. Excitedly, he turned to Tywin and made the announcement.  
“Yes. Brienne and I are having a baby.”

Everything slammed to a stillness before shouts exploded in the room. Jaime held her fast as everyone elbowed at each other to kiss and congratulate them. Tywin, the closest, was thrown towards them and Brienne caught him in her arms. His green eyes were bright as he looked at his son then at her before wrapping his arms around them. 

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint,” he told them. Then he kissed Jaime on the cheek. He kissed Brienne too. He touched her on the cheek, his gaze warm and fatherly before dropping to her breasts. Jaime opened his mouth to tell him off but Brienne beat him to it.

“Tywin,” she began, “if you don’t want me to break your nose, you’ll remember never to look at me below the neck ever. Are we clear?”

Tywin was surprised. “Oh. I didn’t realize—well. I apologize, Brienne. I meant no malice or any harm.” He glanced at Jaime. “I am sorry, son.”

“See to it you do as she says, okay, Father?”

“For the woman who just ensured the Lannister legacy, she will always have my life and gratitude.” Tywin said. It would have been over the top from anyone else but this was something he was able to say sincerely. “Congratulations, again.” 

Kisses and congratulations rained upon them. However, Tyrion remained at his station by the TV, his expression smug.  
Daenerys, turned toward him then her purple eyes widened when she was what was happening on TV.

_“Why is my brother naked?"_

Jaime, Sandor, Stannis and Rhaegar laughed as heads whipped toward the TV. Tyrion turned the volume on max, grinning as everyone stared transfixed. Jaime was clearly nude, with only a guitar keeping what little modesty he had. Behind him were Rhaegar, Sandor and Stannis, naked as well and only artfully covered by their instruments. _Kingsguard_ was performing ‘Winterfest Is All Around’!

A huge, belly laugh burst from Brienne and Jaime kissed her on the neck. “Are you surprised?”

“Oh, gods. Is this why you didn’t want me there?” She asked. “I can’t believe you came up with this idea!”

“Much as I’d love to take credit, wench, it isn’t mine.”

“What do you mean?”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Bronn frowned.

“Who the fuck is that?” He complained.

Brienne was still watching, and slow to realize that indeed, it was a Kingsguard performance. Jamie's arms wrapped around her waist from behind. She leaned against him with a happy smile. But she suddenly squinted at the screen and shook her head in disbelief.

And there, right behind the drums, with cymbals hiding his manly bits, sat Loras Tyrell.

Bronn opened the door, ready to tell off whoever was standing there. He threw it open, ready to curse. Instead, it remained stuck in his throat. His gray eyes stared in surprise at the angel standing at the doorstep.

Her hair was a rich tumble of brown yet in the light of the moon, the tips were tinged with amber. Big, doe eyes the color of deep chocolate stared at him. Her nose was small, turning up slightly, her lips the shape of a rosebud. Her skin was smooth, flawless ivory. 

“Hello.” She told Bronn.

Bronn blinked at her. Fucking Seven, for the first time in his life he had no words to say. The beauty before him had stunned him into silence. She giggled. It was a musical, silvery sound.

From behind her shoulder, Loras Tyrell appeared. Bronn frowned, realizing that this was the tulip’s date. But wasn’t the tulip gay?

“Bronn,” Loras grinned. “Great to see you. Jaime told me to come during the broadcast to surprise Brienne. By the way, this is my sister.” He put his arm around her waist.

Bronn felt his blood sing. “Sister?”

The angel held out a small hand to him. _Fuck._ He never thought a hand could be so beautiful.

“I’m Margaery.” 

Someone screamed and more excited shouts followed. Someone brushed Bronn from behind, nearly pitching him forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sandor practically yank Loras by the collar of his coat and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug. Then there was Brienne, shrieking. Maybe. It could be Jaime. Everything else sounded so far away. He couldn’t even feel the floor he was standing on. All he knew was the stunner that continued to smile at him. She lowered her hand and Bronn had never regretted anything as much as that moment. He was not fit to touch perfection like this; he had no right to refuse it.

“Uh,” she spoke. “Would it be possible to come in? It’s freezing.”

That snapped him out of his reverie although the feeling had yet to return to his legs. Bronn, for the first time in his life, flushed.  
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat and stepping aside. “Please. Come in.”

Another smile, more beautiful than the last. She walked past him and Bronn closed the door. 

Everyone was still shrieking over Loras. Bronn stared back at Margaery, who was looking at him expectantly. Bronn flushed again. Though he was invited he was still an employee. That’s why she was looking at him so.

“If you’ll let me help you out of your coat, miss,” he said.

“Miss?” An elegant eyebrow cocked to a smooth forehead. Margaery went to him. “Must you be so formal, Bronn?”

“Of course.”

“Well.” Her chocolate eyes twinkled. “Let’s hope I can change your mind about that. I’m very good at persuading people.”

And with that, Bronn fell head over heels in love with Margaery Tyrell. 

“I look forward to it, miss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are only two chapters to go then I'm done. There will be a spin-off, but involving mainly Bronn and Margaery. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank for reading and your kudos! 
> 
> Loras' family ostracized him for being gay, which included Margaery. At some point, she realized it was wrong and sought him out. This will be explored in the spin-off too, so stay tuned for that.


	14. Winter Is Here

One Year Later

 

The longer and colder nights had Jaime and Brienne curling and clinging to each other in sleep. Brienne woke up with her nose practically glued to his nape and her hand under his pajamas. The heat rising in her cheeks warmed her up for a bit before she settled back quietly on the pillow. In the dark it was hard to tell if she was smug or still embarrassed at her boldness but her hand remained wrapped around Jaime’s cock.

She loved waking up like this, holding the person she loved and awed at the gift of another day in such a life. Gently, she nuzzled at the soft shock of golden blond hair with her nose, closing her eyes at his clean scent touched with faint soap, the feel of his body hard and steadfast even in sleep. Again, a heat wave went through her for indeed Jaime was hard. And getting harder.

Slowly, she released her hold on his cock finger by finger, biting her lip as she pulled away. Though her body was stirring in anticipation of being with him again, there was something more important she had, and wanted. She left the bed, shivering in spite of her heavy sweatshirt and long johns, the heavy wool socks at her feet. Her robe hung at the foot of the bedpost and she hurriedly put it on, knotting it tight. A quick wash of her face then she was slipping through the doorway of the next room.  
The barest shaft of white light began to filter through the heavy drapes of the room. Despite the little light, her feet easily brought her to the crib. Her heart raced in anticipation the closer she got until she was leaning over it on her elbows, her blue eyes bright sapphires and a wide smile on her face. She didn’t event dare breathe as she didn’t want to disturb her daughter’s sleep.

It was a source of amusement for them that she slept with her bottom up in the air. She would wail when gently urged to sleep on her side, or her back, until the doctor advised the concerned parents to just let her sleep as she wanted. Her blanket was still securely tucked around her, so she was warm. Unable to resist, Brienne gently ran the tip of her finger up then down her soft, smooth cheek. 

Her response was quick. First, she squirmed, a soft, kittenish sound drifting from her pink lips. Still with her eyes closed, a yawn followed, the most adorable yawn Brienne had ever seen and will never get enough of. She giggled as her daughter yawned long and indulgently, much like her father did. Then her eyes opened. 

“Hello, my treasure,” she whispered, unable to resist her any longer. Though her hands were big and her arms firm and muscled, they were gentle in turning the soft bundle and picking her up from the crib. She pressed a kiss on the world’s cutest, smallest nose and grinned in delight as big, bright eyes looked at her. The most beautiful green eyes in the world.

“It’s your Mama,” she continued, still whispering. “Have I told you today I love you? No? Then I say it again, without tiring, I love you, I love you, I love you. Oh, how I love you, my sweet, darling Gwendoline.”

Holding her securely with one arm, she unknotted her robe so she could wrap the panels around her baby. She was warm and didn’t appear to be feeling cold. A blanket may be better but Brienne didn’t want to miss an opportunity to hold her so. With Gwendoline now wrapped with the robe, Brienne went to the window and pulled the drapes open. The sigh that greeted her drew a genuine gasp from her, prompting Gwendoline to look at her curiously.

“It’s winter,” Brienne marveled. “Look how beautiful the world is.”

Snow had fallen in the night, rendering the ground in an endless carpet of white and the trees and plants coated in it. There was the promise of another harsh winter but all Brienne could think about was bundling them up in the heaviest, thickest jackets and pants and going outside to play in the snow. She giggled as Gwendoline pressed her faced through the glass.

“It’s your first snow, my treasure. The first of the many.”

Just looking and pointing out to her daughter the trees and the cars blanketed in snow gave Brienne one shot of happiness after the next. After so much resistance from her to accept that she was pregnant, she lived each day thankful to be given her beautiful, precious daughter.

She labored for close to twenty hours. In between screaming and cursing at Jaime, Brienne growled and yelled at her baby to come the fucking out. Tyrion had though to capture those lovely moments on video, recording despite threats from Jaime to castrate him. It was Tywin who mercifully removed the camera from his hands and carried his son like a football under the arm from the room.

Gwendoline was born screaming and kicking at the world, weighing a hefty nine point eight pounds. Her was pale blond, almost white, but thick, even at birth. She was covered in freckles from head to toe. 

Her green eyes were her father’s but more beautiful. Brienne never thought anyone could be more beautiful than Jaime yet there was. 

Never had Brienne expected her heart to be filled and to burst with the magnitude of love she had for their daughter. It was too much yet also never enough. Each day she loved baby Gwen more. Each day the list of things she would protect her from grew. Did she fear for her daughter? At times, she did, but that was the downside of being a parent. She will never be without it. But she felt love more often, of a frequency to edge this out at times, completely forgotten. 

Brienne was still pointing out random stuff and kissing her daughter when the adorable little runt began to squirm and rub her face on her breasts. “Okay. Hang on, sweetheart,” she cooed, heading to an overstuffed chair upholstered in baby blue with white piping on the edges. Gwen whined and Brienne rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why your father insists you’re just like me when you obviously got this demanding, impatient attitude from him,” she said playfully as she settled down. She was wearing a sweatshirt, trickier than a simple blouse that could be unbuttoned. She pulled it up, revealing full, heavy breasts with milk leaking from her nipples. Gwen quickly latched on to one and began to suck. 

“You’re a hungry little lioness, aren’t you?” She murmured, stroking her hair.

“Of course she is,” drawled Jaime from the door. He smirked at Brienne scow for surprising her. He was dressed in a navy robe that matched hers and had put on a heavy sweater to go with his pajamas. He looked rumpled, dead sexy and smug. “Looks like I just made it for the show.”

“For the thousandth time, Jaime, breastfeeding is not a show or spectacle. This is how I feed our daughter.” Brienne said exasperatedly. But her cheeks were pink as she spoke. Jaime was looking at their daughter with love in his eyes but when it was her face, his expression quickly changed to desire. To her embarrassment, her nipples tightened and more milk began to leak. Damn it.

Four months since Gwendoline’s birth had passed. Save for oral sex and their hands, they haven’t really done it. The desire and inclination was there but Jaime, who would never forget how a human was pushed out of her vagina, was worried about hurting her. It was sweet but Brienne was becoming frustrated. So she was really looking forward to the next four days.

“To you it’s feeding our daughter but to me. . .” And his voice trailed off but he wagged his eyebrows lecherously at her. Brienne felt her body temperature leap to fever-hot and Gwendoline made a curious sound, her big green eyes staring up at her mother.  
“May the Seven bless me with the sweetest, most obedient child,” Brienne said jokingly, smiling at her. 

Jaime dragged a stool with him as he approached them. The sound drew Gwendoline’s eyes toward it and something like a laugh and a shriek came from her lips. Jaime grinned at her and dropped a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Good morning, love of my life,” he told her. Another kiss then he sat on the stool.

They were quiet except for the suckling sounds from their baby. This was their favorite moment of the day, in this room. It was a world of their own, small but with everything that mattered. Jaime brushed a pale cowlick hanging between Brienne’s eyebrows and she looked at him. They kissed sweetly, too short but it would do for now. 

“She’s getting so big,” Jaime whispered a few moments later, chuckling when Gwendoline’s fist closed around his thumb.  
Brienne bit her lip.”Hopefully not too big.” She couldn’t stand it if her daughter was also ridiculed for being too tall and too broad. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jaime said. “The best gift to me came in a really big package.”

She blushed and he smiled at her. “Shut up.”

“Who wants simpering delicate lilies? They’re boring and whine. I like ‘em strong and sturdy. Unbreakable. Well, only her.” He said when Brienne shot him a look.

“All my life I’ve always dreamed of a man who would compare me to furniture.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I was comparing you to a tree.”

“Dear Ser, you do know how to make me swoon.”

“Swoon? You?” Jaime smirked. “Wench, you stumble, trip and crash. Straight into my arms.”

Gwendoline released Brienne’s nipple and her small hands tried to reach the other. Laughing, Brienne moved her around, carefully, then positioned her by her right breast. The baby smacked her lips before feeding from her again.

“So. Wench. Are you ready?”

She pretended to be puzzled “Ready for what, exactly?”

Jaime tweaked the tip of her nose with his finger before cradling her cheek in his palm. “Ready to marry me?”

She frowned. “I don’t believe I penciled that in.”

“Fuck you.”

She laughed and kissed his palm. “Are you ready to have me?”

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out later.”

 

If Tywin Lannister had his way, the wedding would be at the old sept of Casterly Estate, where three generations of Lannisters have been married. But Jaime made it clear from the beginning that they would only marry without any interference from him—which meant he had to shut up when he pressed them to get married before Gwendoline was born. “We will marry when we want to and when time allows us,” Jaime declared in a voice that would not be questioned even by his father. Tywin felt a grudging respect for his son, though he still thought it was silly to get paid millions to scream and shout onstage.

The wedding took place in the garden. Snow was thick so the staff had cleared as much as they could to enable easier treading. But the snowfall was constant so a wooden low platform was constructed for them to be on without the risk of ending up knee-deep in the snow. But they still wore boots.

Lights strung between the trees and on slim, silver posts down the aisle gave the wedding a spontaneous, homey touch. In truth it was months of planning because the couple disliked anything that looked too done or with a professional touch. However, Tywin insisted on ice sculptures of lions. They flanked Jaime. He hoped to the Seven they would melt. 

Jaime stood at the end of the aisle, peering anxiously through the crowd for a glimpse of his wench. He was dressed in a thick and heavy black coat, tailored to match his tuxedo. Over his shoulders, he wore the Lannister cloak passed down the generations. It was deep crimson embroidered with golden lions. A blood-red ruby brooch kept it clasped around his throat.  
Tyrion, dressed as well in a dark coat to match his tux, caught his brother’s anxious expression.

“She’ll show up, come on.” 

Jaime put his gloved hands in his pockets and said nothing.

There was no question that Brienne loved him. But he had been wondering since the night she asked if they could set a date if she did so more to satisfy convention. His wench had the unfortunate habit of putting everyone’s needs ahead of hers. He was so happy that he agreed, glad that when people saw her ring, a cushion-shaped, two-carat sapphire surrounded by diamonds, they had an answer when asked for the nth time about a wedding date. Now he wanted to kick himself.

_I should have given her more time._

A beautiful, sweet little laugh came from one of the seats in front. Tywin and Bronn were taking turns holding little Gwendoline. As Jaime approached, she caught a glimpse of her father and beamed angelically. She had his eyes and the color of his hair but the rest of her was pure Brienne. He took her in his arms and held her close to his chest, finding some peace in having his daughter with him.

“When you can speak I expect you to help me in convincing your stubborn mother that she should put herself first every once in a while,” he told her solemnly. “Promise me?”

Gwendoline shrieked and smiled, showing her pink gums. He laughed and hugged her tight. “I should’ve known.”

The buzz of conversation suddenly quieted. Jaime turned and saw Sansa was talking to Sandor. Sandor held a violin that, against his size, looked to be a child’s toy. Jaime had requested him to play the composition he did just for the wedding, “Astonishing You.” Sandor nodded and put the violin under her chin. The guest stood up.

Tyrion tugged at the leg of Jaime’s pants. “The baby?”

“Only for a little while,” Jaime promised to his daughter before passing her to his brother. Despite Tyrion’s short arms, his hold on her was sure. He gave her back to Tywin, who grinned happily at having her back. 

The first, sweet strains of “Astonishing You” began to play, the composition of notes tickling the ears and having the guests smile in surprise delight. 

Sansa was the maid of honor. Her body was still soft from childbirth although she was slimmer now. Her auburn hair was swept up in a roll that reminded Jaime of a puffy pastry. Her gown was strapless and the color of silver. Over the gown, she wore a fancy, heavy white coat that nipped at her waist. Her skirt was full and made of tulle. She grinned at everyone before reaching her spot at the end of the aisle.

Jaime eagerly looked at the end of the aisle. His heart, frantic and beating hard in his chest, slowed as he saw Brienne’s profile before she faced him.

_By the Seven, look at her._

Brienne’s pale hair peeked from below the white furry cap she was wearing. Her gown was off-shoulder, with matching fur on the neckline and sleeves. The bodice was heavy silk that flowed to a full, billowy skirt to the ground. Sheer white sleeves gave Brienne’s bare arms some protection. Winter roses in full bloom served as her bouquet. She looked like a faerie borne from snow. A tall fairy with magic at her step and delightful spells from her lips. 

Even from this distance, her vivid sapphire eyes stood out. All eyes were on her but she eyes only for Jaime. Davos Seaworth stood next to her and he offered her his arm. Then they nodded at each other and began to walk down the aisle.  
It was the longest walk ever. Jaime had to stop himself from dragging her to the front with him. He had to quite literally dig his heels on the wooden platform lest he actually do it. He focused on Brienne’s eyes, big and guileless, the shy smile that touched her full lips. 

Jaime thought she bloomed when pregnant with their child. But no, her beauty then was nothing compared to how she was now. She was pink, he hoped from pleasure and love. He promised to himself to nuzzle her blotchy throat after the ceremony.  
At last, Davos brought her to him. The two men shook hands then hugged briefly.

“Make her happy,” Davos whispered.

“Always. I love her,” Jaime replied before they parted. As Davos went to his seat, he reached for Brienne’s hand.

She startled him when she spoke. “I love you, Jaime.”

He squeezed her hand. “I know, wench.”

Because they were in front of the sept, she mouthed, “Fuck you.”

Chuckling, he said, “I love you too, Brienne.”

“Now, you may speak your vows,” The septon told them.

Holding hands and looking deeply in each other’s eyes, they spoke together.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife.”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband.”

"I am yours and you are mine. From this day until the end of my days."

“As the gods have willed it, Jaime and Brienne Lannister one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” The septon announced. “You may now cloak your bride.”

Jaime unclasped the Lannister cloak and wrapped Brienne in it. It was soft, rich velvet. He paused for a moment to look at her, realizing that her hair looked more blonde against the crimson. The color did not clash with her eyes at all. Brienne looked like she was going to cry as he fastened the cloak around her closed with the ruby brooch before holding her hands again. Looking in her glimmering eyes, Jaime felt a catch in his throat.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

“Finally. Here comes the best part,” The relief in Jaime’s voice rang clearly across the crowd and they laughed. As he readied himself to kiss his wench bride senseless, she surprised him again.

Her eyes twinkling mischievously, she suddenly dropped his hands to throw her arms around him. Jaime almost fell to the floor if not for his quick reflexes. More laughter came then Brienne was kissing him. And hot damn it was probably the sexiest, most inappropriate kiss there was. Jaime groaned as she sucked his tongue hard before pulling away. Her eyes were huge, conveying that she herself was surprised with her actions. Cheers, whistles and applause rained on them. 

_So adorable, my wench._

As everyone cheered, Jaime drew her close again. Brienne sighed and they brushed their lips softly, lightly this time. 

“Jaime, I have loved you all my life.” She told him.

He looked in her eyes and saw it was the truth.

“I’ve loved you longer and will love you for all our days and nights to come,” he said before kissing her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tweaked the order of the wedding vows.  
> The gown is something like this: 
> 
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/8d/1a/da/8d1ada38e3b2448e6c3c00d7e6db25e6.jpg
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and commets


	15. Epilogue

Five years later

The two-hour Kingsguard show consisted of performances of their early hits as well as new songs from their latest album, to the excited shouts of the crowd. Kingsguard was known for precise and sharp performances, and Jaime’s singing style, described as “visceral,” by critics. This was the performance they delivered tonight, getting the crowd up and out of their seats, clapping with the beat and singing the lyrics to favorites such as “Battle at Trident,” “The Rains of Castamere,” and “Cripples, Bastards and Broken Things.” The crowd got somber to the point of near-silence when Jaime sang “Kingslayer,” a solemn, almost mellow rock song performed with just a guitar and the barest taps of the drumsticks on the cymbals by Renly. Critics have described this song as the kind that “turned your joy into ashes in your mouth.” Another slow rock song was “The Things I do For Love,” described by one critic as “unexpected and gets it roots deep in you.” 

Things got lively and the crowd jumping on their feet during performances of “The Lady Is A Wench,” “Hear Me Roar,” “Our Blades Are Sharp.” The loudest shouts came for “What Is Dead May Never Die,” one of their new songs. Kingsguard ended the night with another song from their latest album, “Winter Is Coming.” 

Jaime was in his element, roaring at the microphone yet melodious and smooth. His blond hair was dark with sweat and his white t-shirt was nearly translucent from sweat too, clinging and outlining his hard chest and well-defined abs, leading some women and men to shriek. Brienne, who was at the wings watching Kingsguard perform, burst out laughing when a group of three women, carried on the shoulders of their boyfriends, pulled their shirts up and bared three pairs of very ample, surgically-enhanced breasts.

“Our husbands will be creaky and walking with canes and there will still be skanks flashing at them,” Sansa said from behind Brienne’ shoulder, shaking her head, 

“They can flash all they want as long as Jaime only looks,” Brienne declared. Though she wasn’t worried about Jaime straying, she still did not take his loyalty for granted. She had seen her husband never look at another woman with heated want aside from her. He was also the one to request for extra security around the stage and the dressing rooms to prevent any groupies from sneaking in and trying to get him or other Kingsguard members into a compromising position.

After a hiatus of close to two years, the Kingsguard reunion—or rather naked reunion for the performance of “Winterfest Is All Around”—led to the band’s biggest record deal yet with Second Sons. Daario Naharis disliked the company being referred to as a “Pop Factory.” In a bold move that bordered on reckless and idiotic, he brought out the shares from Prendahl and Mero and re-branded Second Sons as the top record company for rock bands. It was still an operation not as big as the conglomerate such as The Golden Company but its roster of talent was the best in the business. The first winners of The Band, The Wight Walkers, were signed on three years after they won. Brienne never managed them but they took to heart her advice to reflect on what it was they really wanted as a band and how to do it. They were now being managed by Jon Snow.

The incident between Rhaegar and Brienne involving the Wolfboyz had their manager rebranding them as the “bad boys of pop.” The dailies were then filled with photos of Robb Stark getting into a traffic altercation, Ramsay Bolton being handcuffed out of a club, Bran Stark getting his entire back inked with a howling wolf and Theon Greyjoy with glazed-eyed supermodels on each arm. This behavior turned off their young fan base and led to dismal record sales of their last two albums. Jon Snow, who did not agree with the rebranding, left the group. He embarked on a solo career but was unsuccessful. Through Brienne, he came to be manager of The Wight Walkers.

“Good night, everybody!” Jaime said to the screaming crowd. “Until we see you again!”

He waited for the rest of the band to stand beside him. Linking arms, they took a deep bow and the crowd went wild. The stage darkened and they left. 

Brienne opened her arms as Jaime ran to her. He slammed against her, knocking the breath out of her. Pinning her against the wall, his mouth easily found hers. She kissed him back with equal ferocity, moaning deliciously. People were talking around them but she didn’t care—nor did she give a whit about their behavior. Jaime was sweaty and hard—so hard—and he tasted of salt and triumph. Gods. She grabbed him by ears as she buried her tongue in his mouth.

“Hey.” Someone shoved at Jaime’s shoulder roughly. Brienne blushed while Jaime whipped his head around to glare at Stannis. Stannis rolled his eyes and pointed behind him with his thumb.

“Fuck later. They want an encore.”

Sure enough, the crowd was chanting, “Encore! Encore! Encore!”

Jaime groaned and rested his forehead against Brienne’s. Nearby, Sandor and Sansa were ending their kiss. 

“You have to go, my love.” Brienne told him.

Jaime nodded then put his lips to her ear. 

“Stay wet for me, wench.”

Brienne’s mouth dropped open and he pulled back, grinning at her playfully. Then he turned to lead the group out from the backstage. The lights went back on and the crowd screamed upon seeing Kingsguard making their way back. Jaime grinned as he strapped on his guitar. Brienne managed to pick up her jaw and make her way closer to the stage to watch her husband sing.   
Kingsguard performed two more songs, “Always Pay Your Debts” and “The Lion’s Way.” They thanked the crowd again and left the stage.

Brienne had gone to Jaime’s dressing room in the middle of “The Lion’s Way.” Her hands were shaking form excitement and she was flushed from head to toe. When she heard the door open, she turned around and saw Jaime.

The ardor from their earlier kiss was gone, but in its place a desire that was more consuming, demanding. Brienne held her breath as Jaime’s eyes darkened. She gulped as the door shut behind him and he locked it with a firm click.

Another look then they attacked each other.

It looked like a tussle, a dirty, angry fight on the floor when it was actually a mutual, desperate scramble to get each other’s clothes out of the way. Brienne tore at his t-shirt, the material easily giving away because it was damp. With Jaime’s golden skin bared, she kissed and nipped at the hard muscles of his chest, licked his abs. He yanked her back to his mouth roughly, his kiss swallowing her whimper of protest as he shoved her to the floor.

She pulled him away from her lips by gripping his hair. As he yelped, she demanded, her eyes burning, “Here?”

“You want on the couch?”

It was still a few feet away from them. Too long. She shook her head and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“This works.”

Then they were kissing again, each wanting to outdo each other. She would laugh if her clothes didn’t feel so hot and fucking clingy. Damn. She grabbed the hem of her sweater, whining at having their kiss interrupted to pull it off. Jaime glared at the tank top she was wearing.

“What the fuck is this?”

“What? It’s cold!”

He reached for the neckline and pulled it apart. He smothered her cry with another hard kiss. She moaned as his hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them, fingertips flicking at her tight nipples. Jaime finally gave her respite by attacking her throat next, then down her chest, all the way to her breasts. Her fingers ran through his hair as he nuzzled the soft mounds. Her breasts have become plump from pregnancies though still small. The nipples longer, fatter—more ideal for piercings. The sapphire studs he gave her years ago twinkled from the rosy tips before he gave her a devilish, sexy grin and took a hungry drag. 

_It was so fucking right._

“Jaime,” Brienne moaned, arching her back to push her breast deeper in his mouth. “Jaime, Jaime.”

She cooed and moaned as he continued suckling from her tits while rubbing his cock against her mound. Her pants were still on, as were his. But she felt him. Gods, did she. Hot and so hard. So fucking hard.Knowing he was torturing himself, she unbuckled his belt, lowered the zipper. Jaime’s groan of relief filled the room as his cock, full and thick, thrust against her palm.

He released her nipple with a plop. “Wench,” he was begging. “Please. I need you now. I can’t—I can’t, gods—“ he squeezed his eyes shut as she squeezed and rubbed him. “Stop. Stop for now. I want—“ He opened his eyes and they were green fire.  
“I want to fuck you. _Now._ ”

He didn’t let her speak. He threw her back on the floor and she laughed as he fought at her jeans.

“Of all the days to wear pant and boots, wench?” He complained.

“Wait, I have an idea,” she panted. Quickly, she unzipped then drew the denim down her thick, hard thighs. She blushed at Jaime’s longing gaze at her pussy. Her bush was thicker.

“You’re not getting any sleep tonight with what I intend to do with that,” he promised her before she turned on her hands and knees. His groan made her blush some more. “Fuck, yes. _Perfect._ ” 

She heard him unzip then he was grabbing her hips. They moaned together as he began to enter her, the loud squelch of parting flesh telling them how wet and ready she was. Brienne was dizzy with lust and desire, her vision clouded as Jaime pounded hard inside her. They never had sex. Fucking was what they did. Rough and at times brutal but always, always more satisfying than expected. Gentle frustrated them both. His cock repeatedly bumping her cervix drew sharp screams from her throat. Realizing this must be too intense, Jaime paused to pulled her up, turning her face toward him. Their tongues warred for dominance while his fingers arrowed past the thicket of curls to her stiff clitoris. _Too much._

“Jaime,” she managed to sob before tearing her mouth away from him and returning to her hands on the floor.

“Make yourself come around my cock,” he told her and she nodded, her fingers seeking the clitoris peeking through the curls. The combination of his cock fucking her and her own fingers made her gasp and tremble. Her other arm nearly gave out from the pleasure but she held on, pounding back up at him. He would have bruises on his thighs come morning, and she on her hips. Badges from another hard battle between their bodies.

He was panting, the sounds even musical. He was close while she was still taking some time. Gritting her teeth, she touched her clitoris harder, to the point that she could feel every whorl on her fingertips. Just before her body short-circuited, Jaime shouted and spilled inside her. She grunted soon after, still touching herself as he filled her. The motions of their hips slowed down until, together, they collapsed on the floor.

Brienne closed her eyes as her breathing slowed down. Jaime’s breath feathered her nape. He was still inside her, but only semi-erect now. She smiled as he gently played with her breasts.

“Imagine how much more outstanding fucking you would be if I just came from a battle,” he mused, licking her neck.

“Who said you’re the only one who goes to battle?” She said, opening her eyes. A satisfied hum escaped her as he continued kissing and touching her.

He bit her shoulder. “You’ll slay them. All of them. And knowing you, you might seek me out in the battlefield and fuck me right there.”

It shouldn’t turn her on but it did. She squirmed, feeling her pussy leaking. She felt him grin against her skin.

“Made you wet, didn’t I?” He murmured knowingly.

“Shut up.” Then she sat up and stared at her chest gleaming with sweat, pooling in her belly button, her wet pussy and the jeans still hanging just above her knees. Jaime’s pants were in the same condition but he was lounging on the floor as if he meant to stay the night. She patted him on the hip.

“Let’s go. Why we can’t hold ourselves off until getting home to fuck on our big, very comfortable bed is something I will never understand.” She said, getting up. He smiled at her as she pulled up her pants. 

“Thank the gods for carpets,” Jaime said, zipping up then getting to his feet too.

She dumped them in the bin and hoped whoever cleaned the room wouldn’t look closely. Jaime tossed her a t-shirt still encased in plastic and helped himself to the same. As she fixed her hair, Jaime helped himself to a cup of ginger-honey tea, kept warm and fresh in a pot. 

Brienne’s phone beeped and she checked it. “Car’s out front,” she said. “Let’s go?”

“I love how organized you are, wench,” Jaime teased her as he got their coats. He helped her into hers first before sliding into his. “You think the children are still awake?”

“It’s close to ten. They shouldn’t be, it’s a school night,” Brienne answered.

The limo was waiting for them, the engine running and the interior warm. Their driver was a young man named Josmyn Peckledon, nicknamed Peck. He was a big Kingsguard fan and it was amusing seeing him struggling to maintain a professional demeanor around Jaime. He had looked ready to kiss the ground Brienne walked on when she offered to take a photo of them together, and promised never to tell his boss.

“Good evening, Mr. Lannister, Mrs. Lannister,” he said, opening the door for them.

“Good evening,” Brienne replied as she went in.

“Hope we didn’t keep you waiting long, Peck,” Jaime said, patting him on the shoulder then going in after her.

“Not at all, sir,” Peck assured him.

“Gosh, it’s so chilly tonight,” Brienne murmured, raising the collar of her coat. “I think it will snow while we sleep.”

“I give it another day or two,” Jaime said.

“We can go swing by a coffee shop or something to get you a warm beverage, Mrs. Lannister,” Peck offered as he got behind the wheel and started to drive.

“Thank you, but no. We want to get home to the children.”

Jaime and Brienne have three children, Gwendoline, now five, and the twins Christopher and Damien, aged two. Sandor and Sansa had a son, Liam, and a daughter, ten-month-old Angela. Rhaegar, married last year to Sansa’s aunt Lyanna, would be a father soon as she was just three weeks away from giving birth. Stannis and Melisandre were no longer together but they had a son, oddly named Shadow. Loras was in a serious relationship with Stannis’ younger brother, Renly. Due to the current adoption laws for same-sex couples, Loras adopted a baby girl from Lorath as a single parent. Her name was Violet and she was three years old.

Since they all had children and their career was better than ever, the members of the Kingsguard and Brienne had a serious discussion of their future. Their latest album meant more tours, grueling long tours around Westeros and beyond. Tours meant being away from their families, or in the case of Jaime and Brienne, and Sandor and Sansa, who had always been in charge of their wardrobe, being away from their children. But if they didn’t tour, it wouldn’t push the sales of the album and the end of Kingsguard would be imminent.

It was Brienne who came up with a bold idea so risky Jaime couldn’t believe it. She proposed that they make Kingsland their home base and rather than going to the fans to entice them to buy, the fans would be coming to them for the first time.

“I have a rough idea of numbers in my head,” she said. “Your fans are people from eighteen to fort-five years old. That’s a wide range of financial capability. You sell the most to the eighteen-to-thirty-five bracket but the people who go to your concerts—who buy tickets for the entire tour, are from twenty-five to thirty-five. You have an audience who is willing to spend to go where you are.”

“But that could be suicide,” Rhaegar protested. “How long will that last? A tour takes at least a year, Brienne.”

She looked him in the eye. “We do it for three years. If we don’t get the right numbers after that, then we lose. But if we do, we negotiate for two more years. By then you have another album.”

“We play to a minimum of seven thousand in an arena,” Stannis said. “There’s no place here that can fill that many people.”

“The Westeros Stadium has a capacity for five thousand people. Small, yes,” she added quickly as everyone protested, including Jaime. “But with smaller shows it means lower-priced tickets, which means more people will buy the tickets.”

“But what’s the message being sent with smaller shows?” Jaime asked her. “People might think because it’s not a huge concert then it’s something they can just pass over.”

“That’s why we make a huge promotion of how you’ll be staying put for the next three years. We can get the Westeros Tourism Bureau on board to help out, the mayor’s office, the governor. It’s our way of giving back to where Kingsguard began. With the influx of people from all over Westeros and outside, the revenue of all businesses concerned would double. Think of the increased hotel bookings, tours, trips, the airlines.”

Seeing them looking doubtful, she continued. “It’s worth a shot. We have our families to think about now. If no sponsor will ever take the deal then. . .” she sighed. “We go on tour.” Her heart hurt at the idea of leaving their daughter behind. But tours were not a life for a child. They were grueling and rough. 

“It’s worth a shot,” Stannis suddenly declared. As his band members looked at him, he cleared his throat. “Look, you don’t want to be away from your families. I can understand that. And if our fans are really as loyal as they claim to be, they’ll come to us this time. Personally, I’d rather we stay put too. I can’t spend more nights in a tour bus with Sandor clinging to me as if I’m a stuffed animal.”

“That’s a lie!” Sandor growled.

Stannis looked bored. “I have photos.”

Loras held up a hand. “I vote that we make this proposal. It’s worth a shot.” 

The ticket sales went better than expected. As Brienne predicted, the local economy of Kingsland benefited a lot too. The revenue from the increased hotel bookings and tours meant more and better services being built. The Westeros Children’s Fund, the main beneficiary of the Kingsguard shows, had built another wing in the orphanage. Daario was unsure about the gamble Brienne had proposed but she got him to agree to back her up when they started knocking on doors for sponsors. Tyrion offered to be a co-producer. 

Kingsguard performances were on for five times a week. They got Sundays and Mondays off then they were back on from Tuesday to Saturday, with two performances on Saturday to accommodate the weekend crowd. Entertainment, music as well as financial journalists earlier predicted that this risky gamble was reckless and would have Kingsguard falling flat on their faces. Before the end of the first year, the figures proved them wrong. The shows were excellent and the repertoire of songs changed regularly, due to Kingsguard’s vast discography selection. Other musical guests would come on too, to give a different flavor. So far, Jorah Mormont’s guesting was the most successful. The lead singer of Blue Stripes, a hard metal band, Khal Drogo, also guested and the fans loved it. 

The opening acts also changed regularly. This was done to prevent the show from getting stale and for new talent to be discovered. Thanks to this, the Wight Walkers had their first album, debuting to critical acclaim. 

Peck pulled up in the driveway and opened the door for Jaime and Brienne to get out. As Jaime spoke to Peck, Brienne looked up at their house.

They sold Jaime’s old house and moved to a bigger mansion. But it was almost two years before they could move in because it was gut-renovated to suit their needs. A separate building in the property was where Jaime had a recording studio. Recording sessions were long and he didn’t like being away from Brienne and the children longer than necessary. In between recording sessions, the kids would visit or he fucked his wife by the controls. 

The house was festooned with lights for the Winterfest in a few days. Kingsguard would be having a last show tomorrow before they took a holiday break until the new year. It would be almost three two weeks of having Jaime around, just relaxing and being with each other. The children were especially looking forward to it.

It was Bronn who answered the door. Tyrion and Daenerys, Rhaegar’s sister, were on a three-month honeymoon. Bronn had paid time off but he didn’t like being idle. So for the moment, he was working for Jaime and Brienne. They had a small staff, a cook, a head butler, three housekeepers and a nanny. Since Bronn could do what they all did, he was just there to assist. He didn’t mind the diminished workload. 

“Where are the panties your sort should be collecting every night?” He told Jaime as the couple shrugged off their coats. He was helping Brienne remove hers.

“Don’t be gross,” Brienne told him.

Jaime rolled his eyes. “No panties. That’s a myth.”

“You really are married,” Bronn retorted.

“How are the children?” Brienne asked.

“Gwen’s waiting for you. The boys are knocked out.” 

“As usual,” Jaime said with a grin. “Thanks, Bronn. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“I told your cook to muddy up the breakfast. I understand you have to keep your girlish figure, Jaime, but muesli for children? That’s child abuse, if you ask me. Your cook seems to think it’s beneath her to introduce anything with grease and butter so I’m taking over breakfast tomorrow.”

Brienne smirked. “Margaery refused to fight you for it?”

“Smart woman knows when to bare her claws and when to stand down.” Bronn said with a shrug but he was smiling. He and Margaery were now engaged. He bade them good night and turned to head for his room.

“Wench, why don’t you go look in on our daughter first,” Jaime suggested. “I’ll have to make some arrangements first.”

“Okay.” She kissed him on the lips then said, “but hurry. You know Gwen won’t sleep unless she sees you.” Father and daughter were close.

“You have my word.”

They kissed again then she left to go to their daughter’s room.

When Brienne opened the door, Gwen was tucked in under the blanket and sleeping. Her golden hair was long and touched her shoulders now, her bangs feathering her freckled forehead. Brienne sat at her side and touched her smooth cheek.

Gwen’s eyes fluttered open. Sleepy emeralds looked up at her. As she smiled, dimples much like her father’s appeared on her face. “Mommy.”

“Bronn said you’re still awake, spark plug,” she said, stretching out next to her in bed and curling her legs. “I came here to tuck you in. You have school tomorrow.”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“Here I am.” Seeing that his two favorite girls were awake, Jaime flopped down on the other side. Gwen giggled and pressed her face against his chest. She nuzzled her small nose against him. 

“Daddy doesn’t really smell nice, cupcake,” Jaime said, flushing.

“I don’t care.” Gwen threw an arm around him. “I missed you, Daddy.”

Brienne felt her heart crack from the fullness of love for as Jaime smiled tenderly at their daughter. “I missed you too.”

“Many people saw you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I want to see you.”

Jaime glanced at Brienne and she shrugged innocently. She lay back on the pillows and continued to wath their exchange.  
“Daddy’s concert runs pretty late, sweetheart. And you still have school tomorrow.”

“But it’s my last day!” Gwen pouted.

“Well,” Brienne spoke up. “If you promise to take a nap after school, and if your father behaves himself, you can watch him tomorrow. You don’t have school after tomorrow, don’t you?”

Gwen squealed and turned to her. She had Jaime’s eyes and hair color but she looked exactly like Brienne. While no one outside of her family would call her a beautiful child, for Brienne she was, the truest beauty there was. She grinned as Gwen hugged her.  
“I can, Mommy?”

“I promise.”

“What about Chris and Day?” Gwen was having trouble pronouncing Damien before and could only do ‘Day.’ The nickname had stuck.

“They’re a little too young, still. So it’s just you.”

Gwen beamed and kissed her. “I love you, Mommy.”

Jaime, pretending to pout, demanded, “I’m the one who’ll be fucking singing for two hours and I don’t get an I love you?”  
As Brienne laughed, Gwen turned to him and said, “You cursed, Daddy.”

“Fucking right I did.”

She frowned and her parents had to keep themselves from laughing. “You shouldn’t.”

“If I promise to try to stop, will you kiss me?”

Gwen thought it over. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. I love you, Daddy.”

“Always?”

“I promise.”

Gwen somehow managed to convince her parents to read her a story. Brienne took a book from the shelf, “The Magical Ice Dragon.” Jaime pulled Gwen to his chest and she rested her head there. Halfway through the story, Gwen fell asleep. It was a team effort extricating her manacle hold on her father. When she was finally tucked in, Brienne kissed her on the forehead.  
“I love you, my little Gwen.”

Jaime was waiting for her at the door. He took her hand and together, they checked on their sons. Damien’s eyes opened briefly, bright blue pools, before they closed again. Chris remained asleep, holding a lion snuggly to his chest. 

They walked back to the bedroom with their arms around each other’s waist. As Jaime shut the door, he sighed. “Fuck, but I could really use a bath.”

Brienne sniffed his neck and chuckled. “You are a little rank, my love.”

Jaime pretended to look hurt. “I thought you liked my manly smell.”

“I like your _clean,_ many smell. You smell like a foot locker. Not,” she whispered in his ear, her cheeks turning pink, “that I abhor it completely."

.”Ah,” Jaime wrapped his arms around her waist and looked up at her. “So you like it a bit?”

“Hmm. Maybe?”

She shivered as he kissed and licked her neck. “You smell a little like me too. It’s so fucking sexy.”

“You just swore to our daughter not to curse,” she whispered, turning her neck from side to side to get more of his hot kisses.   
“Not in front of her. I shouldn’t have been anyway,” He said. Grinning suddenly, he bent and picked up her legs. She laughed and held him by the shoulders as he strolled to the bathroom. He nudged the door open with his foot. 

“Being that my present state of smell is not getting a hundred percent of your loving, care to help me do something about it?”   
One of their renovations was a huge bathroom to accommodate a hot tub. The room smelled heavenly with the aroma of something citrusy and tropical. The bath was close to full and bubbling. Smirking, Jaime brought her closer there. 

“Fucking Seven Hells but this is why I love you, Jaime Lannister.” Brienne declared, kissing him fully on the mouth. “Put me down. Hurry. Hurry, please.”

Jaime laughed. “As you command, wench.”

They left their clothes in a heap on the floor. Jaime was the first to step in, groaning in pleasure. Brienne was about to follow when she remembered something. “Hold on,” she said, turning to dash out of the bedroom, naked. When she came back, she placed the baby monitor by the stone of the sink. She placed folded robes and towels by the shelf of the tub.

Jaime, lounging already with his elbows stacked on the sides, shook his head, amused. “Sensible as ever.”

Brienne blushed. “Someone has to be.”

“Stop teasing me and just get here,” Jaime demanded impatiently, crooking a finger at her. 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “You know, you get pleasure out of things when you don’t rush sometimes.”

“With a body like yours, do you really expect me to behave myself?” Jaime retorted, the look he lascivious and appreciative. “Now, wench, if you don’t want me to drag you.”

“Okay! Gods!” Brienne got in the tub. As the warm, bubbly water enveloped her, she threw her head back and moaned.

“That’s exactly the same sound you made when you came in the tub the first time I saw you,” Jaime told her, his voice silky. “Remember the show you put on for me?”

Though she was blushing at the memory, she protested hotly, “For the love of the Seven—Jaime, for the millionth time, that wasn’t a show for you. I was doing it for myself.”

He smirked. “Oh, really? You were fucking yourself listening to one of my songs? Listening to my voice?” 

He made his way to her, his movements that of a predator eyeing his prey. But Brienne didn’t cower. Instead, she met his stare straight-on, defiant and hopeful. 

“You are so arrogant,” she hissed when he reached her. But she didn’t stop his hands from descending to her hips, made no resistance when her legs floated up to wrap around his waist. 

“But you love me,” he whispered, leaning into her so she was between the edge of the tub and him. “You said so just a few minutes ago.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“I’d like to hear it again.”

She put her arms around his shoulders and drew him close “I love you, Jaime.”

“Say it while you touch yourself.”

_“What?”_

“Oh, come on, wench! You know how much I enjoy seeing you touch yourself while saying my name. Now I want to hear you say you love me too.”

“And what will you be doing while I work?”

“Touch you too and say I love you?”

Brienne cocked her eyebrow. Jaime pressed himself against her, grinning as her mouth fell open as his cock nestle between her folds.

“Fuck you until you can’t remember how to speak?”

She shook her head though her hips were beginning to move against him. “Not enough.”

Jaime sighed and pressed against her more so she was looking up at him. 

“I’ll serve you breakfast in bed. Chocolate chip pancakes and the strongest, blackest cup of coffee that you’d think it was brewed all through Seven Hells.” 

Brienne pretended to consider. “Alright.”

Jaime grinned. “Finally.”

“Not that I’m keeping a tally, Jaime, but it would be nice if you told me too. I’ve told you twice in one night,” she said, her hand slipping between their bodies.

Jaime followed the trail of her hand disappearing in the water. As her mouth fell open as she touched herself, he kissed her sweetly around the face.

“I love you, Brienne.”

Their exertions in the hot tub was extended in the bedroom. When exhaustion finally claimed them, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. They would sleep longer if not for little Gwendoline bursting into the room, shouting that there was snow. “And no school!” She bellowed right into her father’s ear. Jaime growled he was going to go deaf but Gwendoline ignored him and yelled at her mother to wake up next. 

Brienne kept the blankets and comforter around her, distracting Gwendoline as Jaime hurried got dressed. When Jaime finished, she dived into her clothes next then went to their sons’ bedrooms to wake them up. Chris and Damien smiled at her, their smiles a mirror of their father’s. She heaved them in her arms and returned to the bedroom. 

Jaime and Gwen were standing by the window, Gwen up on a stool. Jaime took Damien in his arms. With his other arm around Brienne, he pulled her close.

“It’s officially winter!” Gwen announced happily, pressing her nose against the glass. The world was blanketed in a thick, soft snow. It seemed white was the only color of the world, and the cloudless expanse of the blue sky. Her green eyes widened at the icicles hanging from the trees and the window frame. 

“Yeah, it sure is,” Brienne agreed. She smiled at Jaime, who responded in kind. There was a song in her heart for all the happiness and love of all these years. All due to the man standing beside her. She clasped his hand in hers and bit her lip as he squeezed. “Winter has come.”

“I wish it’s always winter,” Gwen said.

Well, with her family like this, warmed by love and surrounded by such happiness, how could Brienne disagree? When Jaime lowered his head to kiss Gwen’s hair, Brienne knew that he felt the same. 

The snow will melt away eventually and it would be another year but she knew that for the rest of her life, a love and joy like this, with Jaime and their children, will always be around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And . .THE END!
> 
> THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS AND KUDOS! HAPPY NEW 2017! HERE'S TO MORE WONDERFUL READERS AND MORE AWESOME J/B FANFIC FROM AO3!

**Author's Note:**

> We will see more of Bronn :-)
> 
> I have fifteen chapters in but I might trim because there are scenes that aren't really necessary. If it happens, we're looking at just then. I hope that's okay. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make me upload faster!


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